The Walls We Build Around Us
by quintessentially-literary
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember.  Final chapters - who will win? Definitely M Rated now folks, you have been warned. R
1. Chapter 1

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me.

* * *

The nerve. The downright, arrogant nerve. She'd managed to survive Mildred and her cohorts – and she'd noted Ethel Hallow as the instigator on more than one occasion – for three years, including several quite eventful trips out of the school. She'd prayed and prayed to whatever deities would hear her that she make it out of their fourth year without adding to her growing list of '_ways in which my form can humiliate, maim and/or annoy me'_. Not only had she managed to survive her form but she' also managed to get through several painful encounters with Heliboring and his merry band of twits. What was that they said about speaking too soon?

No sooner had Miss Cackle announced the impending visit of Helibore and some of his students had disaster struck. Quite frankly she didn't care if Barry, Ethel, Charlie, Mildred or Helibore himself had caused the latest disaster. The fact of the matter was that the entire East Wing had been flooded due to a spell gone wrong. Not only did the Foster's Effect mean that their problems could not be solved magically, but it also meant that everyone was doubling up in rooms. More pupils meant more chaos and the only way she would have been able to deal with all the extra strain would to have been able to retire to her rooms at the end of the day. Fortunately her room was situated at the highest point of the West Wing, unfortunately she was being forced to share her inner sanctuary with another member of staff.

"Please not that puffed up Heliboring, please goddess Hecate, I will cut down on wide awake potion as long as it isn't Heliboring," the mantra went round and round her head as names were pulled out of a hat.

"Sharing with Miss Hardbroom will be," _please, please, please, _"Miss Drill."

Constance sighed audibly with relief, _thank you goddess Hecate, I owe you one. _

"Miss Hardbroom I'm flattered that you have no problem sharing with me, I'm sure we'll have a great time," came Miss Drill's smug voice.

"Miss Drill, may I assure you," she murmured in clipped tone, "that when the other options are Helibore and Miss Bat you suddenly become a preferred room mate."

"Well then as long as I am _preferred _perhaps you would be so kind as to take me to where I'll be staying for the next few days, I'd like to set my things up before I have to run detention later," the hurt in Miss Drill's voice stung Constance but she pushed the feeling down with her usual brusque manner.

"Very well, I will meet you at the bottom of the West Wing in half an hour whilst I sort through some things." And with that she disappeared leaving a very bewildered and curious Miss Drill.

"_What on Earth could she have to sort out? Maybe she really does lock pupils up!" _

* * *

The nervousness Constance felt had her fall back onto her bedroom door as soon as she reappeared. She looked around her room in desperation and dread. Her quarters were not just where she slept and spent her solitary hours. They were her sanctuary and told so much about, most of which she kept hidden from prying eyes. Even Miss Cackle had never been into her quarters, she'd gone to great lengths to ensure that. And now Imogen Drill would be staying with her for an indefinite amount of time.

She knew how she was perceived by all those in the school; strict, perfectionist who lived for order. That worked perfectly for her in the classroom however in her own personal domain things did not run quite as smoothly. Books were strewn everywhere from where she'd read one and moved onto the other almost straight away. Seeing this and all her other 'neat' piles scattered about she dove into her work and hoped she'd be done by the time her guest arrived.

* * *

Imogen thought herself a confident woman but standing outside Constance Hardbroom's quarters she felt anything but confident. She felt the panic constrict her throat and her bewilderment over her panic only made the knot in her stomach worse. She'd been shocked by her own delight and being roomed with the formidable HB. She figured it was because of the mystery that surrounded the woman. She'd always been a source of intrigue to her, dressed head to toe in black and never giving anything away. Like an impenetrable and unknown region of the world that Imogen yearned to explore. She was fascinated by this woman yet couldn't work out why which only made things ten times harder.

"Oh get a grip of yourself."

"Excuse me Miss Drill?"

With a start Imogen jumped back as the woman in her thoughts appeared in her usual fashion.

"Miss Drill who on _Earth _are you talking to?"

"Umm, myself," she sheepishly replied cringing inwards as she felt herself blush once more.

"I'm sure it was a fascinating conversation now hurry up I only have a few minutes before I have to oversee dinner," and with a curt nod Constance lead Imogen into the unknown.

* * *

Cobwebs, a torture chamber and a wall lined with pickled potions' ingredients. Where were they? This couldn't be the room of the evil HB, the woman who turned noted radio presenter Icy Stevens (creep) into a frog.

She knew that the teachers' rooms were nothing like those of the pupils, she didn't know why but having lived in her own room before the latest round of Cackle's Chaos she had an idea of the rooms.

Obviously Constance, as Deputy Headmistress, had been given one of the bigger rooms but Imogen would have thought it would have been bare. Instead one wall was covered with shelves upon shelves of books save for a huge window that overlooked the forest below. Her eyes were then drawn from the breathtaking view to the bed. It was a huge four poster bed with a dark purple curtain decorating it. She imagined it made for a fantastic sleep though why the self-professed Wide-Awake witch would need such a bed was beyond her. At the foot of the bed was a chest sealed by a heavy lock. _That must be where she's hidden the frogs. _

* * *

Constance was very aware of the woman's fixed gaze on the chest and cleared her throat to avert it.

"Are you quite finished? No monsters or instruments designed to punish my pupils Miss Drill." She could see from the absent-minded nodding of the sports teachers that her guess was right. The woman's unsure movements were beginning to grate on her already frayed nerves so grabbing her bag from her she put it in front of the drawers she'd managed to clear out.

"This will be yours, feel free to put any toiletries in the bathroom. I've put a spare duvet at the end of the chaise longue I can assure you it is quite comfortable enough and I will be back to check that everything is alright after dinner. Feel free to settle but respect my room Miss Drill," she explained, "please."

* * *

Once more she was left gawping in the wake of Miss Hardbroom. The tentative 'please' was a word very rarely heard coming from Constance, unless it was dripping with sarcasm. Her lack of confidence resonated within her and she was determined to make an effort and quell her strong curiosity. Knowing that unless she buried herself in a task she would go on a hunt, she dove into the bag which held all her clothes and some of the possessions she knew she couldn't be parted with.

She quickly placed her sportswear in the top two drawers then placed her nightshirt and underwear in the bottom drawer. She stood up in dread; her night shirt had been a gift from Serge at Christmas. It was pale blue and covered in sheep, she was going to be seen by Constance Hardbroom in the most laughable piece of clothing. Then another thought hit her. She was _actually _going to be sleeping in the same room as her. Did the woman sleep? Suddenly she was giggling uncontrollably as she had the image of the fearsome potions' mistress snoring and drooling in her sleep. The laughter made the thought of sleeping near Constance less terrifying but only slightly as she realised that Miss Hardbroom might end up being the one giggling uncontrollably at the sight of her nightwear.

"_Why couldn't he have bought me a new whistle?"_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated.

* * *

Constance usually revelled in her nightly patrol around the school; making sure that all was safe and in its place – the girls especially. However with the invasion of the boys and the doubling up of quarters there was a hum of excitement in the air amongst the pupils as they enjoyed their time with each other. This would only lead to disorder and yet another disaster which was already giving her a migraine.

"Did you hear about Drill?" she heard Fenella Feverfew. '_This isn't her floor, what is she up to now?'_

"No, what? She's not taking us on a cross country run again is she?" came Mildred Hubble

"Even worse." _'And there's tweedledum. Griselda Blackwood I should have known.'_

"What could be worse than that?" Maud Moonshine's voice sounded incredulous at the thought of anything worse than a run through the castle grounds which had Miss Hardbroom smirking in agreement.

"Well not for us but definitely for her." Miss Hardbroom's heart sank as she knew what the gossip would be about. "She's sharing with HB!"

"No way!" all the girls seemed to share Ruby's opinion and were silent.

"I give it two days until Miss Drill camps in the courtyard," announced Enid Nightshade, "although saying that it is HB ice queen of the west wing, maybe I should make that two hours?"

A heated debate began amongst the girls over how long Imogen would survive but Constance gave it little attention. She was well aware of how she was perceived but that did not mean she was happy about it. She felt neither sad nor angry just an insurmountable nothingness. A deep yet numb pain which she carried around with her everyday like a second skin she had grown accustomed to. While some would see numbness and distance from others as a terribly sad occurrence for Constance it was a blessing. It at least meant she was not as cruel and vindictive as her mentor Heckity Broomhead.

'_No don't start thinking about that, not now, not with Imogen around!' _She feared showing any crack in her armour otherwise emotion would trickle out until it exploded and that was something, despite her strength, she could not handle.

* * *

Imogen Drill had managed to keep herself distracted thanks to her only surviving book which she figured Constance would not approve of given its false depiction of magic.

'_Though she is remarkably like Snape, in fact other than gender they are exactly the same,' _and then she found herself laughing hysterically at the idea that in fact Snape had so much in common with Hardbroom that maybe the author herself was a witch.

"Whatever can be amusing you so to make you sound like a complete imbecile?"

Normally one of Miss Hardbroom's sudden entrances would have her jumping out of her skin but this particular image refused to leave and she found herself unable to stop laughing to the point of tears.

"M..Miss Drill, Miss Drill," Miss Hardbroom's exasperated tones just added fuel to the fire, "Imogen please can I have some quiet"

This stopped her short and she looked up to see Miss Hardbroom leaning against the door. She seemed run down and it unnerved her, the deputy was usual so unshakeable, sure she often lost her temper but this was something Constance never let on. Imogen wondered if anyone at the school had ever seen Miss Hardbroom let down her guard. That's when Imogen realised why Constance had been so agitated at the idea of having her staying with her. This was her sanctuary, somewhere she could unwind and she was intruding in on it.

There was nowhere else for her to go so instead she did the next best thing she thought she could do. "I'm sorry Miss Hardbroom, got a little carried away with myself. How were the rounds, the girls settled? Would you like a cup of tea?" She cringed inwardly at the cliché English tradition but knowing so little about the woman it was the least she felt she could do.

Miss Hardbroom seemed to think about her answer as if debating whether to accept help from another person but with a deep sigh she nodded her thanks then moved over to sit on the bed.

* * *

She'd thought about declining Miss Drill's offer but could see no reason why she should and she needed something hot to bring back some feeling to her body. Watching Miss Drill totter around her quarters making tea for the two of them she was struck for a moment by how natural it seemed. She shook her head not wanting to take her mind down that round.

Miss Hardbroom was a woman of simple pleasures one of which she was overcome to indulge, sleeping her feet out of her shoes she moved them along her carpeted floor and breathed a deep sigh. Beginning to detach herself from the chaos of the outside school life she tilted her head back, eyes closed and listened to the sounds around her. The nightingale outside her window, the sound of the forest, the pattering of Miss Drill as she made the tea and finally, that which she felt most privileged to hear, the sound of the magic around her. Its different harmonies with an added layer upon the arrival of the wizards. Many of her people had long since forgotten their ability to listen to the music around them which made Constance even more humbled and comforted by the symphony she heard.

She was far too attuned to the different sounds around her though and became aware of a shift in the atmosphere glancing around she stared into the eyes of her roommate and blushed at having been caught out lost in the moment.

Clearing her throat she stood up and grabbed her cup of tea, thanked Miss Drill and excused herself wanting to take a bath.

"Miss Drill," she said before shutting the door.

"Yes Miss Hardbroom?"

"Feel free to raid my library by the looks of that book you've read it too many times," and she closed the door.

* * *

Now normally one would be surprised at someone having spotted the book given that it was half covered but this was Miss Hardbroom after all. Imogen was more alarmed by the idea that behind a simple wooden Miss Hardbroom was taking a bath. That was far too many ideas to handle; firstly that she enjoyed something as frivolous as a bath, secondly that she would be in that bath and therefore naked and thirdly that she seemed quite comfortable with that.

For some reason Imogen refused to acknowledge she became elated thinking that Constance might becoming more comfortable around her Sure she was in the other room but for someone like Miss Hardbroom that must be seen as huge progress. Determined not to think about the other woman she went and raided the bookshelf and also to glean possibly a little insight into the inner workings of this fascinating woman.

* * *

Secret simple guilty pleasure number one – enjoying walking around in bare feet. Secret simple guilty pleasure number two – enjoys taking long baths in a bath which probably held two people comfortably something Miss Hardbroom had invested in during her third year as deputy head as the normal sized tubs very rarely allowed her enough room.

Stepping out of the bath she wrapped a towel around her then looked into the mirror. The reflection staring back at her always threw her for a moment as her normally pale skin was flushed from the heat of the water and it seemed like there was some life in her after all. Brushing through her long wet hair she cursed everytime she caught her comb on a knot.

"Oh bugger it! Aah goddammit!" and on one particular knot she pulled so hard against it that her hand went smack into her vanity and she let out a loud, "bollocks!"

Then clamped her hand over her mouth remembering that Miss Drill was in the next room, her language was hardly becoming of a deputy head hopefully she hadn't heard.

Holding her hair back with a wrap she quickly got changed into her Chinese pyjamas and grabbed her dressing gown from off the door before leaving. She'd lost track of time whilst in the bath and was unaware of how late it was there curled up on the chaise longue with an open book on her chest was a sleeping Miss Drill.

She was struck by how peaceful she looked and recognised it as envy. Envious of how calm her sleep must be. She took the book from her and marked her page,

'_Pride and Prejudice, interesting choice,'_ she mused. Grabbing the throw from over the chair she draped it over the covers that the sports teacher already had wrapped around her being fully aware of how cold it could get. As she moved away from the woman her senses were assailed by her scent. Some light perfume and the fragrance that belonged only to Imogen herself. Constance backed away in horror; surely she could have avoided such a thing? With disgust she stepped away from Imogen and climbed into bed positioning herself as far away as possible and turning her back to her.

She lay rigid in bed bringing back all the tension and then some from before her bath. Her inner monologue worked double time ordering her not to turn around and look at the other woman until a twinge in her back did it for her and she swore again. Fearing that this had woken Imogen she held her breath waiting to see what she would do next.

Silence. Releasing her breath she shut her eyes tight and tried desperately to fall asleep praying all the while that it would be restful and dreamless.

* * *

A blood curdling scream forced Imogen from her slumber as terrified eyes tried to search in the dark for what was happening. She dived out of bed over to the twisted form of her roommate.

"Miss Hardbroom what's wrong?" She could not disguise the fear in her voice as she tried to grab hold of the tormented woman. She couldn't understand what was going on at first then noticed that the woman was still asleep. Her panic was joined by despair as she could not comprehend the demons in her nightmares that would cause such a scream to be torn from the composed woman. She clawed at the covers around her trying to pull them off her. Miss Drill attempted to grasp her arms but was pushed off by Constance violently.

"Miss Hardbroom wake up please!"

"Please, please let me stay!" the woman cried, her pleas broke Miss Drill's heart wanting to end her torment she ran to the bathroom and filled her hands with cold water, not even bothering to turn off the tap she ran back into the room and threw as much of the water as she could onto Miss Hardbroom who bolted upright with searching and terrified eyes. She was shaking and gasping for air and tears poured down her face. For a moment it was as if she did not remember that Imogen was there.

"Constance are you alright?" Imogen's question sounded weak and pathetic even to her own ears but it was enough to startle Miss Hardbroom who in shock disappeared from the room leaving a very puzzled and worried Miss Drill behind as left in her wake was an echo of a sob.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Thanks for the reviews they really do feed the writing bug. Hopefully I'll be able to keep updating this quickly but uni starts again tomorrow but I'll try very hard. Enjoy!

* * *

The crisp morning air bit at her face as she pounded the frozen earth with her feet, each heavy step absorbing more and more of her anger and confusion. Each breath she sucked in set her lungs aflame in a cold heat so that her body matched her anger.

* * *

The shower had long run out of what Cackle's deemed as hot water so instead of burning away the memories any feeling was becoming number by the second. The water was like an icy caress that cocooned her in a world of nothingness – unhearing, unthinking and unfeeling. Safe from images of pain and suffering and from memories of rejection and hurt.

* * *

She didn't care if branches whipped against her face; if anything she welcomed it, another thing to be angry about somewhere to channel her anger as she hit them out of her way. The pain in her chest was matched by the fiery pain in her thighs and calves spreading up to her lower back as she pushed all her tension in hope that it would have dissipated by the time she returned to the castle.

She knew it was pointless searching for her, she had demonstrated her skill for disappearing enough in the last 24 hours. Once she'd gone she'd tried desperately to go back to sleep knowing this but sleep had never come and so she'd gone for her run earlier than normal. She'd run farther than she had before in a vain attempt to tire her body and mind but though her body now ached with exertion her mind continued to work overtime pulling up theory after theory of what could cause such a reaction in anyone let alone Constance Hardbroom.

She needed a shower. Clearly the tension wasn't going away through exercise _'might as well try to relax' _and before she knew it she was outside the door as if her feet had decided on the action before she had.

Stepping into the room she was in awe at how serene everything seemed given that it was such a stark contrast to a few hours previously and yet something wasn't quite right. She couldn't put her finger on it at first but listening more intently she heard the spattering of water onto stone and strode over to the bathroom door but stopped short of opening it. All she could hear was the water, no movement from the other side of the door. She felt a sense of unease permeate her body and without thinking she slowly opened the door.

The breath rushed from her lungs as curled up on the marble bottom of the shower was Constance Hardbroom completely oblivious to her intrusion. She was shaking violently and on instinct Imogen yanked her out of the shower and wrapped her in one of the thick towels off the floor. Kneeling on the floor much to the protesting of her overstrained knees she pulled Constance towards and began to rub the towel up and down her body to return some heat to her frozen body. Constance's gaze was glassy as if she were not really there.

Imogen found herself murmuring small comforts to the woman, "there that's much better. Don't worry you'll be warmed up in no time."

Her anger at the woman's abrupt exit had been forgotten replaced by a need to care for her. She noticed a faint blue pallor to her skin and she worried about how long she'd been under the cold water for in case she needed more help. Whilst rubbing up and down her arms she noticed a mark against the woman's pale skin. Then another and another.

'_What on Earth?' _she slowed her movements so that they were more like caresses. Moving her hand to one of the marks she felt a difference in skin texture, not rough but not as soft as the surrounding area – a scar, in fact many scars littered her porcelain skin. She traced the pattern as if to sooth whatever memory went with for there were far too many to be caused by simple accidents. However her actions stirred Constance whose vacant eyes became filled with rage and hidden beneath that if one were able to look close enough shame.

"Get off me!" she screamed and Imogen was pushed from her by an incredible force which was far too strong to be by Constance's physical strength alone. She'd been pushed away with magic so forcefully that her head was spinning and tears had sprung to her eyes.

* * *

Blood and adrenaline rushed around her body filling her ears with a deafening thumping. She should not have used magic even if it was involuntary she should have known better, controlled herself more. But she had panicked, there would have been too many questions and the numbness would have gone it was the only thing that kept her together. Imogen was too close she had to get rid of her.

She stood up and grabbed her dressing gown fastening it firmly around herself before helping Miss Drill to her feet who seemed as if she were about to offer her thanks.

"Miss Drill do you think it appropriate to enter into a room where somebody is showering? Is it a belief that your people have because I am fairly certain I was brought up to believe knocking came first?" Miss Drill was clearly shocked by her words.

"Oh for goodness sake don't stand there staring like a gawping fish. Not only have you entered where you are not welcome you have been far too familiar it is _completely _unacceptable especially after I welcomed you into my quarters," she knew that wasn't exactly the case but her mouth was going faster than her head.

"You have disrupted me completely in less than twenty four hours which is highly inconsiderate of you. And in that time you have also neglected your duties as a teacher which is an affront to me as well."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yesterday you told me you had detention yet I am aware that Miss Cackle oversaw detention last night. Bending the rules during a time of upheaval is something I would expect from a student _not _from a member of staff." She'd done it now, attacked her work ethic, her background and rejected the care and help she'd tried to give. She could see Miss Drill beginning to shake with fury and a small voice in the back of Constance's mind told her to take it back, take it all back and apologise for using magic after all she was the one in the wrong but she quashed the voice.

She waited to be screamed at for her words but was unprepared for Miss Drill's violent outburst. She grabbed the book she'd been reading the night before and hurled it at the wall shattering the mirror into a thousand pieces. Both the women were shocked by her actions and while Miss Hardbroom remained frozen Miss Drill hurried out of the door and slammed the door behind her.

Taking a deep breath she stepped over the broken mirror shards to her wardrobe and dressed for the day, carrying on was in her nature and she would not falter from that.

* * *

She'd been unnerved all day refusing to think about the events of the morning or of the nightmare. But the more she tried not to think about it the more she was thinking about it. She avoided the staffroom telling herself she did not have the energy to deal with Miss Bat when really she did not want to come face to face with Miss Drill or admit that she was distraught at having hurt the woman's feelings so much. Even though the two argued regularly it had lessened over the years and she had started to see the non-witch in a new light however it was a light she preferred to ignore.

She thought she had become an expert at hiding how she was feeling but the truth was that Miss Hardbroom's mood was a closely monitored thing by the pupils. If Miss Hardbroom was in a bad mood that meant that _nothing _was getting past her, even heavy breathing was a risky affair – far too noisy. Luckily it was the weekend and it was easier for them to avoid her given she had buried herself in her work in the Potions' classroom.

"Is it just me or is HB acting a little odd?" queried Mildred.

"Well not many people would call HB normal but yeah I know what you mean," said Ruby.

"I've _never _seen her work this hard!" exclaimed Maud.

"That which bodes badly for HB bodes badly for us all," everybody laughed at the theatrics Enid used, "What? I'm just saying."

* * *

She'd re-catalogued every ingredient and relabelled every bottle and was on her way to put some jars into the dungeons. She was for once grateful that the Foster's Effect made it a bad idea for her to transport old potions containers magically she needed the manual labour to keep her occupied. A tried and tested method to keep her mind off whatever was bothering her was to recite the Witches' Code then she began to recount all the potions recipes she could think of. She was so determined to keep her mind busy that she did not hear Miss Cackle walking up behind her.

"Miss Hardbroom may I have a word with you?" Constance lost her grip on her box and it came clashing to the floor. "Constance, come with me please."

"Yes Head Mistress," she replied and puffified the shards into nothingness wishing the floor would swallow her up. She felt like a student following Miss Cackle something she was neither accustomed to nor enjoyed.

* * *

"You've been out of the staffroom _all day _when we have guests and don't pretend that you've eaten Constance I know you far better than you have allowed me to know you. What I also know is that you will not tell me a thing easily but I am your superior and though I will not order you to tell me what is bothering you, you will sit here with me for dinner," the older woman's words held much kindness but there was no denying the authority behind them.

With a wave of her hand Miss Cackle had summoned the food prepared by Mrs Tapioca. A hearty broth with freshly baked bread filled the room with sumptuous smells. Constance slowly tucked into her food yet could not fully enjoy it as she grew anxious about the coming conversation each bite felt like a deadweight in her stomach but Miss Cackle was eyeing her carefully making sure she ate the lot.

* * *

The meal was taken in silence and with a sense of dread Constance put her cutlery down on the table knowing full well what would come next.

"Miss Hardbroom I learned a long time ago that there was no such thing as subtlety with you so there is no point whatsoever in beating around the bush," she said with a knowing look.

"Miss Cackle I can honestly say I do not know what you're talking about –"

"Constance do not lie to me," she paused and stared at Miss Hardbroom who looked down at her folded hands, "I'm sure by now you have become accustomed to Miss Bat's presence again. So would your preoccupation today and avoidance of the staffroom have anything to do with why I had a distressed Miss Drill ask to change living arrangements this morning?"

Constance looked up at her words but had no answer. This was what she wanted wasn't it? She'd chosen her words precisely but upon hearing that it had worked she suddenly had a deep pain. Her throat constricted with words she could not convey for she had spent so long keeping her words inside that she now feared she would choke on words she did not know she had.

"I know you do not like people to get close to you-"

"She's too close," her voice was barely a whisper but in it Miss Cackle could hear her anguish and it broke her heart. Amelia came around her desk and slowly knelt down at her feet, putting her hand under the younger woman's chin so that she could look in her eyes.

"Constance, you are my dearest friend, more than that I look at you like the daughter I never had. I don't know what happened along the way but somewhere someone crushed a part of you. Over recent years I've seen you come out of that shell especially when Imogen arrived. You're two opposites Constance which is not necessarily a bad thing. Do not be afraid to rebuild what you've lost with the help of someone else," she stroked away the few tears which broke through Constance's resolve.

Moving back to her seat she lifted some of her paperwork giving the troubled woman in front of her as much privacy as possible to collect herself. Standing up Constance made to leave but paused before she left, "thank you Amelia, for everything," and she disappeared.

A smile broke out across Amelia's face in hope that maybe Constance would seize this opportunity, she was certain that the school would be a much better and happier place for it.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Thanks for the reviews they really do feed the writing bug but feel free to give criticism as I'm really unsure about this chapter but if it sucks I'm blaming being ill for a week o:-)!

* * *

There was blood-boiling furious and then there was how Imogen was feeling as she stomped up the stone steps. She figured she looked extremely childish but at that moment she didn't care. Amelia had sided with Constance, true she hadn't said as much but it was obvious to Imogen. Constance was a fellow witch and her deputy head she would always side with her over the non-witch PE teacher.

"Please go and talk to Constance, Imogen," that woman had the same talent as Constance; the ability to make any adult feel like a student. She relented but she was determined to come out on top of any argument.

'_Why does this woman drive me so crazy?' _she asked herself this question _far _too often, it was one of the reasons she and Serge had split up. Imogen was always complaining about HB and when she wasn't complaining about her she was theorising as much as she could about this enigma. It was carelessness on her part but eventually Serge worked out that HB wasn't Imogen's maiden aunt and even more he started to say something was going on. '_Which of course is preposterous!' _He'd blown the whole thing out of proportion and she'd used it as an excuse to end the whole thing.

'_Imogen mind on task please, you know how good she is at arguing you _need _to focus. She thinks she can walk all over you, do and say whatever she wants _just _because she's a witch. Well that's _not _going to happen. I'm going to get my apology, I'll march right on in there and say:-" _

Years later if one were to ask Miss Drill just what she planned on saying she would honestly say that she had no idea. What she saw when she entered Miss Hardbroom's quarters momentarily stunned her for there, in the middle of the bed with her knees tucked under her chin, was the woman who angered her more than anyone she'd met in her life.

The two women stared at each other as if trying to gage what the other was thinking. The vulnerability in Constance's eyes softened the hardness in Imogen's. She was torn between her earlier emotions and the one's provoked by the vision before her. The battle between them was broken through by a soft voice.

"I understand you're upset and I am truly, _truly _sorry but you have to understand this is my space and I've never shared it with anyone but I can try," her voice was pleading but Imogen was still far too riled from the morning.

"That's all very well and good but what happens tomorrow when you throw me against a wall again," Imogen clamped her hands over her mouth shocked at how harsh her words sounded to her own ears. "I'm sorry that was uncalled for."

"No it wasn't, I shouldn't have done that, I _should _be able to control myself," Constance seemed to choke on her words and Imogen's heart broke as tears slid down the pale woman's face. She moved to the chaise longue so that she was nearer to Constance without pressuring her too much.

* * *

She tried to find the words to explain to Imogen just what had caused her to lash out but whenever she started to explain she realised that it wouldn't make sense. The story started in the middle but for her to understand she would have to start at the beginning; something she hadn't thought about in a _long _time.

* * *

Her earliest memory was stark and grey, there was no sunshine filled days in her house. Her father was a towering figure who ruled his house with an iron fist. She'd learned many things from a young age – it was her fault her father was the way he was, that she had to take care of herself and that she was destined to be a very powerful witch. It ran in her family on her mother's side passing from mother to daughter. For many years Constance had wondered why, if her mother was such a powerful witch, had she been unable to survive childbirth. She'd asked her father this but was unprepared for his response. Grabbing her by her blouse collar, tight enough to make her gasp for breath, he dragged her to her room forcing her into a corner.

"It's because of you; she didn't want to be near _you!_" she'd silently cried herself to sleep every night for two weeks believing herself to be the worst and most unloved little girl in the world. It was the beginning of many such incidences, as an adult she tried to tell herself that her father's words weren't true but it was hard not to believe the conviction in her father's eyes.

Her only solace was her best friend, Lissy. She was such a contrast to Constance, rosy cheeked and strawberry blonde hair. It would have been easy for Constance to envy her; she always had a smile on her face and was doted on by her father. Instead she was drawn to her like a black moth to a multi-coloured flame. She adored her ability to imagine so many fantastical adventures. It allowed her to escape from the depression of her home life. From the ages of three until seven they were as inseparable as they could be.

It was not a stormy day, a grey day or a winter's day just a normal sunny afternoon that Constance was torn from her cocoon of friendship. They had been immersed in a very serious game of dress up with Lissy as the princess damsel in distress and Constance quite happily playing the knight in shining armour carrying her to her chariot after a glorious wedding once Constance had slayed the evil dragon. When her father had arrived to pick her up a leaden dread fell in her stomach.

When her father was normally angry with her his eyes held fury but this time they also held something she couldn't name for many years. Disgust. He'd dragged her by her hair unaffected by Lissy's screams at seeing her friend hurt.

"What on Earth do you think you were doing Constance Hardbroom?"

"Father, we were just playing please don't take me away."

"And do you think it's alright for a young lady to behave as you did? Remember your place you stupid girl. Parading around in boys' clothes it's disgusting!"

"I don't…I don't understand," she refused to look her father in her eyes terrified of his response.

"You are _my _daughter and I expect you to remember that. Your _place _is to learn to master your abilities and marry an eligible wizard, one that will strengthen your abilities," she knew he was obsessed with her abilities having found letter upon letter from a Mistress Broomhead discussing how to improve upon them. She didn't like the sound of this woman; she spoke about her mother as a tool used to gain Constance.

"_Do not let her get out of control, Isabella was the same, you need to break her down."_

She hadn't thought of her future very much, what child does? From that point on it was all her father drilled into her, going as far as to hire a nanny who would teach Constance the correct decorum of a young lady as well as build on her abilities. She never saw outside the four walls of her room except for mealtimes until she was sent to Witches' College and was not even being praised at being the youngest person ever to be sent there. She'd hoped this would be her chance to escape.

Left to sit in an office for two hours she waited and waited for her head teacher to arrive. Would she become the mother she'd never had? She'd read about the most wonderful of teachers in her hundreds of books, the one joy she'd been permitted.

"_Please let her like me," _the young girl had pleaded to whoever would listen. The door opened behind her and she jumped off the chair and turned to greet the woman.

"Good morning Constance, I am your head teacher and personal tutor Heckety Broomhead, you must address me as Mistress Broomhead."

* * *

"I, I can't," Constance sobbing uncontrollably she began to shake with laboured breath. The sight was terrifying Imogen as the older woman broke down before her.

Grabbing her hands away from her face Imogen tried to calm down Constance, "Constance, listen to me you need to calm down please, take a deep breath for me come on you can do it," her words seemed ridiculous to her ears but she didn't know what else to do. She didn't seem to be getting through to her as she started to shake more violently. Each strangled sob made Imogen's heart sink deeper and deeper.

* * *

It was too much for her to deal with, all the pain and hurt of her childhood only multiplied in later years and she couldn't find the words to convey it. Instead they festered in her throat stopping her breath. They came down on her like a bony hand crushing her windpipe and tears slid down her face as she fought for each breath.

She was vaguely aware of Imogen's voice but it was like hearing someone whisper whilst she was plunged under water. Her head felt foggy and blackness crept along the corner of her eyes. She wanted to give in to it, to hide from the world even if it was just for a few minutes it would give her enough time to try and block it all again.

She felt herself slipping until something broke through.

She felt something so mythical to her piercing the panic. It made her breath stop for a second so that her next breath was not as strained and then another feeling of warmth calmed her down even further. It spread to surrounding her entire face and she could feel it reaching the rest of her body. She couldn't comprehend what it was but knew she needed it. She recalled that she wasn't alone in her room and she was surprised that the warmth _had _to be coming from Imogen.

* * *

She felt Constance relax and the tension leave her body underneath her hands. She tried to express all the comfort she wanted to give to her and hoped that she could feel it as she pressed her lips to hers. In the back of her mind there was a voice telling her to focus solely on Constance but she couldn't quell the feelings that spread through her body because of so small an action.

She gently kissed Constance again and again as her breathing slowed and each time she was awestruck by how right it felt. She was lost in the moment, in each touch, aware of how soft her skin was as she held her face.

Pulling back, Constance stared at her with wide, open eyes and she brushed away the tears that slid down her face. The broken woman before her took her breath away as through the hurt in her eyes her beauty managed to shine through. Taking her into her arms she leant back, removing the pins securing her hair she ran her fingers through the glorious locks long after she heard the steady breathing from her as she slept.

Calmness overcame her as she acknowledged that which had been in the back of her mind her whole life, obvious to so many other people but ultimately something she had to find out herself. She hoped to share it with the tortured woman in her arms. With a final kiss to her head she let herself slip into dreams of possibilities where Constance was able to finish her story knowing that she could let herself fall for there was someone to catch her.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Again thank you so very much for the reviews! These next chapters seem to be taking a bit longer just because they're my favourite parts and I'm a perfectionist so I want to get them as right as possible. I hope everyone continues to enjoy the story.

* * *

The next morning Constance was much more at ease around Imogen even though she didn't mention anything about what had happened between the two. Imogen felt that something was developing but she didn't want to push her as she was still struggling with her inner demons. Many shared smiles were swapped as they each went about their morning routine. Imogen had to stop herself from staring at her as she did the most ordinary of things; brushing her hair and teeth. She even felt her stomach flutter when Constance licked away some toothpaste from the corner of her mouth.

* * *

The next few days passed in much the same way with the two dancing around each other hiding the flush to their cheeks whenever fingertips, arms or legs accidentally brushed against each other. Sleeping arrangements changed slightly but neither mentioned that either. Constance was still plagued by nightmares and Imogen would often climb into her bed until she settled, convince herself that she would leave as soon as she made sure that she was over the worst then get back into her makeshift bed but every morning she woke up in Constance's bed to the sound of her in the shower.

Imogen loved her job but she started to will the hours to tick by to when she would be spending time with Constance even if she were reading whilst the other marked papers. Or she would pretend to be reading whilst _watching _Constance mark papers.

She used any excuse she could think of to be near her during the day, be it on lunchtime duty or making sure she beat Helibore to the chair next to Constance. It was a similar situation again as she knew Constance was spending her evening mixing new medicinal potions so she'd looked up some useful herbs in advance to pick up on her run.

Feeling very triumphant she walked along the corridors at such a fast pace that she had to dodge the currently over-crowded halls. She was so determined to get as much time with Constance as possible that she nearly ran into Miss Cackle.

"Oh Miss Cackle I am so sorry I was just-"

"Visiting Miss Hardbroom?" the older woman smiled knowingly causing the younger to become flustered and embarrassed. "I must say Miss Drill it is very refreshing to see the two of you getting along so well," the grin from Miss Cackle's face faded and her eyes seemed to become very worried.

"Is everything alright Miss Cackle?"

"Um what? Oh yes, yes quite alright," Miss Drill made to carry on her journey, "actually no Imogen it's not. It seems we are to be visited by a board of witches from the Council to discuss matters which have come up given that the Camelot boys are here."

"Really what for?" she understood the worry in the head-teacher's eyes, none of the visits by the council had ever gone well.

"They didn't say but they'll be arriving within the next day or less." There was a long pause between the two as they each came up with possible scenarios as to the meaning of it all. "Imogen, I don't know who they are sending." It took a while for Imogen to understand the hidden meaning of the other woman's words but it still resulted with a feeling of dread resting heavy in her chest.

"Does Cons…I mean, Miss Hardbroom know?"

"No I haven't told her. How do you think she'd feel about such a visit?"

In spite of the situation she felt a surge of happiness that she had become the expert on Constance's feelings. "Well, we don't know for sure if it's the worst of the worst so lets' not get ahead of ourselves, besides Ruby and Mildred did quite a number on her last time. If, if you want erm, I can tell Miss Hardbroom." _'Oh my god I am so transparent, hole, ground, now please!'_

"Why thank you Imogen after all it looks like you are heading her way now anyway," Miss Cackle chuckled and left Imogen standing there.

* * *

It always struck her how breathtaking the woman was and that she had only just fully begun to realise and appreciate the fact. The low candle light of the potions' room along with the heady aromas made it seem so _magical. _But the woman in the centre of it all was simply other worldly. The lights made her pale skin glow and the red, fullness of her lips stand out deliciously. It became very distracting when she then proceeded to bite said lip in concentration.

Clearing her throat so as not to startle her Imogen entered and beamed at the welcoming smile from the woman.

"And what brings you to my neck of the woods Miss Drill?" she sensed the playful tone in her voice making her heart flutter.

"Well I was out on a run and decided to pick some things up in case they were helpful," she set her bag down on the table trying to appear nonchalant.

"Well, these will be, fresh ingredients always work better," the eagerness in her eyes was utterly adorable and pride swelled in her chest at being able to witness this marvellous enigma.

"You know Miss Drill, people are going to start calling you a teacher's pet and that is never good," she teased. Imogen would have laughed more at the teasing if her mind wasn't so fixed on the idea of being Constance'spet. She cringed as her face flushed and she guessed at how red her cheeks were. Trying to avoid the other woman's gaze she fixed her eyes on the ingredients she was preparing.

However her eyes refused to do as they were told and she found them drifting over the woman. How her fingers deftly chopped and diced the ingredients. Further upwards they settled on watching her steady breathing, so peaceful and hypnotic. Then they rested on her face. Such a perfectly wonderful face. A few strands of hair had become rebellious and made their way out of the tight bun. Her fingers itched to tuck them behind her ear, normally she would fight such urges but her mind had stopped working properly when she entered the room. Stepping around the table she stood close enough to her that she could tell by her breathing that the other woman was just as aware of how close they were.

Hoping not to ruin what they had carefully constructed in just a few short days she slowly raised her hand and gently tucked the hair behind her ear. Then she traced from there along her jaw line marvelling at the soft skin beneath her fingertips. Constance, still looking at her cauldron, let out an almost inaudible sigh.

The PE teacher was becoming more acutely aware of how hot it was in the classroom especially in close proximity of the other occupant. Glancing at her she saw a bead of sweat making a sensuous path down her neck. Instinctually she leant forward taking in the other woman's scent and lightly licked at the path it had just taken and was overwhelmed by the taste that was uniquely Constance. In the back of her mind a voice tried to remind her that there was something she had to do but she chose to ignore it for the time being.

* * *

Her actions caught her off guard but the moan they produced was even more foreign to her ears – it had come from her! She knew they'd been dancing around each other, an incredibly intoxicating dance which thrilled and terrified her all at once. She longed for the hours they spent together as strongly as she longed for the strength to turn around and throw herself into oblivion with the younger woman. She wondered if she ever would but the sinful caresses of Imogen's lips against her neck were slowly opening her mind to the possibilities.

Turning around she looked deep into the other woman's eyes knowing full well that the lust in her eyes was mirrored in her own. But she also knew that hers would be holding a deep rooted fear and concern mingled with longing played across Imogen's face.

Resting foreheads together their breath intermingled so intimately the sensations caused her legs to buckle but Imogen caught her before she fell. Only now she was pressed against the table and Imogen and her eyes dropped to her mouth. They could have stood that way for such a long time, on the brink of jumping off the cliff together which Constance was not sure she was ready for.

"You bewitch me Constance Hardbroom," whispered Imogen.

"Well isn't that just so very interesting." Icy dread slid down her throat, pervading every nerve ending and she became numb save for the memory of a powerful hand crushing her wind pipe as she struggled for breathe pushing Imogen off her forcefully.

"Good evening Mistress Broomhead."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Ok folks here's the next chapter enjoy! New stories look great and I can't wait to read them but if I do a phrase'll get stuck in my head but asap I will be returning all the lovely reviews. I have a feeling that I will be uploading another chapter later on as well fingers crossed but in the meantime enjoy this one. Oh and for the purpose of my story there are five years at Cackle's.

* * *

She knew she shouldn't have let her guard down. For a small time she had believed that it was possible for her to welcome someone into her life. But it always came down to the same thing; she would always show up and remind her that there was no escaping her clutches.

How could she have gone from being so transfixed by such an amazing woman to being unable to stare at anything other than the floor and fighting back tears that stung at her eyes? Constance tried to put as much distance between her and Imogen as possible without making it too obvious.

"Tell me Miss Drill, are you always so _over-familiar_ with your colleagues? I don't know how _non-witch _women address each other but I can assure you it would not be tolerated by me," disdain dripped from every word. She panicked as she knew how much they would anger Imogen but rather than be worried about how much they might upset her she was more concerned by her reaction. Any retaliation would just add more fuel to the fire.

"Miss Broomhead may I suggest you go meet with Miss Cackle so that she can get you settled in," the bite in Imogen's words revealed the irritation in her voice.

"Surely Constance is quite capable to see that my needs are met, after all she _is _the Deputy Headmistress or are you suggesting that she is incapable of such a task?"

Imogen made to retort but Constance jumped in before she made things worse, "Miss Drill would you please see that the girls are settled in whilst I speak with Mistress Broomhead," she didn't want to be left alone with such a sadistic woman but she also didn't want Imogen caught up in her wake.

"Yes Drill, leave us we have _much _to discuss," although the order was directed at Imogen, Constance knew it was a thinly veiled threat to her.

* * *

Imogen looked between each woman knowing that it would be disastrous if she were to leave Constance alone with Broomhead. Her heart sank as she realised just how much distance Constance had put between them both. She tried to get Constance's attention so she could plead with her without Broomhead noticing but she continued to stare at the floor.

"_Please, _please, _don't do this. Come on anybody, the castle always has someone knocking about." _As if by divine intervention Fenella Feverfew and Griselda Blackwood entered the Potions' lab. Broomhead was incensed by their arrival much to Imogen's relief as it moved her attention away from Constance.

"What are _you _girls doing here, shouldn't you be away studying? Time is everything!"

The girls were clearly taken aback by the presence of the old witch and Imogen saw their eyes dart towards Miss Hardbroom, _"even the girls know she shouldn't be anywhere near Constance."_

"We were hoping Miss Hardbroom could give us some help towards our Final Witch Certificate project," Fenella Feverfew defiantly raised her chin to the woman.

"And you think Constance can make sure _you two _pass?" she guffawed and Imogen had to grind her teeth to stop herself from saying something she'd regret.

"Well obviously," Griselda interjected, "who else would be better?" Imogen swelled with pride as the two girls stood their ground in support of their teacher. Looking at Constance she could see the girl's words had affected her but she seemed ashamed by them. She knew Constance well enough to guess why; she would see their words as a sign of her weakness, embarrassed that they had to defend her. She hated that Constance saw the world this way and knew in her gut that the cause of it was standing in front of her, sneering down at all whom she cared for.

"Mistress Broomhead when did you arrive?" It was a night of miracles it seemed as Miss Cackle appeared in the doorway followed by Helibore.

"I have been here for nearly an hour and it has gone unnoticed."

"Yes, well, we know you're here now so maybe it would be best if you were to come with me," though her words sounded innocent enough Imogen could hear the authority she conveyed in her voice; there was no doubt who was in charge at Cackle's. She too did not want Heckety Broomhead roaming about the corridors either and she especially didn't want her anywhere near Constance. "Where are the other representatives?"

"I am the only one; after all, I _am _sufficiently qualified to teach the girls and your visitors, am I not Constance?" Constance did not reply instead she seemed to shrink away now that the attention was back on her. Imogen began to feel sick – Broomhead would have free reign over what she could do without anybody other than the Cackle's staff to keep an eye on her and they were already busy with the students.

With a piercing glance at her protégé she turned and left the room and with her went most of the tension but not all and sensing this the girls were quick to follow. Imogen listened intently to make sure all the footsteps had faded.

She crossed the distance between her and Constance and was about to take her in her arms when she flinched away. As much as she wanted to focus on Constance she couldn't help but feel hurt by her actions. She felt tears at the corners of her eyes and a tightness in her chest.

"I think it would be best if you found other accommodation tomorrow Miss Drill," her words would have been commanding, _should _have been commanding, this was the fearsome HB, instead they were barely a whisper and aimed at the ground. The woman was crumbling before her eyes.

"Constance I don't think that would help, you need people around you at the moment," Imogen implored her to understand.

"What I need is for you to leave," her voice began to rise, "it isn't important what you think, they are my quarters I choose when you leave."

"Don't do this Constance, not now," she moved towards her and grasped her shoulders and she felt some of the tension ebb away.

A glimmer of hope lit in her heart as Constance took her face between her hands, "I need you to leave, this is something I could never do and I was careless to let you think I could_._ You are an excellent teacher Miss Drill and I admire you for that but I think you've looked to deep into things the past few days and I have let it slide but enough is enough."

And she was gone, leaving Imogen in the cold classroom wanting nothing more than to be held by the woman who'd broken her heart.

She'd eventually picked herself up and made her way back to Constance's room, she'd hope that she would be there and that they could try and talk it through but she knew that she would find an empty room. She would never sleep knowing Broomhead was within the castle walls.

She felt emotionally drained and though a bath would have helped alleviate the physical pain she did not have the energy for it and instead lay fully clothed on her makeshift bed.

She wanted to believe Constance had lied saying those things to her, that she was trying to hurt her on purpose but she had seen no falseness in her eyes. Perhaps she had allowed herself to think there was more between them than there actually was.

She spent a long time staring at the shadows that were cast along the ceiling until she gave in and moved over to Constance's bed. Grabbing her pillow she sank her face into it and was overwhelmed by her scent and her tears began to fall. She cried for the ache in her heart, for the loneliness she felt but most of all because of the crushing fear she felt as she knew she couldn't protect Constance.

* * *

She'd barely slept at all waking up in tears throughout the night but when she woke the next day she was surrounded by warmth and her scent and she knew she'd dreamt yesterday's events but when she turned over she was staring at the wall. She did not want to face the world but she hadto, so she dragged herself to the shower not caring about a run as she knew she'd probably just collapse through exhaustion.

Once the water was the right temperature she stepped out of her clothes and under the water attempting to wash away the chills. She was nearly done when she heard the heavy slam of the door, jumping out of the shower she grabbed a towel and ran into the bedroom, "Constance is that you?"

Lovingly stroking the chest with the heavy lock at the end of the bed was the most unwelcome sight, "no Miss Drill I am not Constance."

"What are you doing here? These aren't your quarters get out!"

"And they are not yours either Miss Drill," Broomhead sneered down at her and she was overcome by her vulnerability, here was a woman capable of unknown cruelty and she was stood in nothing save for a towel. "And I would like to see how you would enforce your order too, you are a non-witch you have no power here."

Imogen knew she had to avoid rising to her bait but each word was like a venomous fang piercing her exposed flesh. Her eyes were transfixed on the chest for a moment, other than her first night there she hadn't given it much thought but now she looked at it she was struck by how odd an item it was. She felt Broomhead's eyes on her willed herself to stare back at her and the cold eyes which held so much contempt.

"In case you hadn't noticed Miss Hardbroom isn't here so I would appreciate it if you left." Broomhead surveyed the room slowly and Imogen thought she was ignoring her until she saw where her eyes remained still. The bed. The clearly slept in bed next to the folded sheets on the _chaise longue _that she hadn't even bothered make the bed with. She tried to act normal but she could feel her heart racing.

"I can assure _you _Miss Drill that I notice," she turned back to Imogen and looked her up and down, "everything." She turned to leave but she laid one hand on the chest again before she left. Imogen just stared at it terrified at the thought that the woman clearly revered whatever was inside.

* * *

She was determined not to be left alone; she walked behind the girls as close as she could for as long as possible without being too suspicious. She breathed a sigh of relief as the staffroom door came into view. She daren't risk using magic to get around knowing how much easier it would be for _her _to find her.

Stepping into the staffroom she was pleased to see Amelia and Helibore discussing the current arrangements in the school and Miss Bat playing whatever instrument she had bought this time. If it weren't for the absence of Imogen it would seem like any other morning.

"_Where is she? She would be here by now; her Monday run normally would have her be here by 8:15 at the latest."_ Constance tried not to panic but with her old tutor's appearance a dark shadow had settled in her mind and she could not see through it. As she was about to ask Miss Cackle if she knew Imogen's whereabouts the woman of her thoughts walked in appearing unusually dishevelled.

It broke Constance's heart to see the tell-tale signs that she had hardly slept and that the time not spent sleeping had been spent crying. Her eyes were puffy and she had the look of somebody utterly defeated – she had seen the look on her own face often enough.

"_And yet she still looks beautiful," _Constance berated herself as her thoughts lingered on the woman before her. She had to refocus all her efforts on getting her centre back, the numbness that she had carried since childhood was her only safe haven now.

"Good morning everyone," Broomhead booming voice was heard before she appeared out of thin air. For once Davina didn't run to her cupboard and Constance could feel the support coming from her and the others in the room even Helibore. She felt weak and defenceless. _"Pathetic," _she heard her father's voice in her head, a memory engraved in her mind destined to remind her of her place.

"Miss Cackle I do _not _want to waste time if you would have the fourth year and fifth year girls settled in the hall within fifteen minutes for my talk along with the boys from Camelot. Constance you will be there, everyone else will carry on with their duties."

"Yes Mistress Broomhead," her voice sounded strange to her ears yet it was familiar, a gut reaction to any order from her tutor.

"What will your talk be about you haven't said?" Miss Cackle interjected and Constance was relieved that for a few seconds the attention wasn't on her, she savoured any time she had to collect herself even if it meant that Broomhead's focus was on those she cared about.

"_That _Miss Cackle is none of your concern but suffices to say that it is about what is acceptable and what is not acceptable in order to be great witches and wizards a truly important discussion, isn't that right Constance?"

She flinched inwardly, "yes Mistress Broomhead," all the while staring at the table refusing to stare into the piteous gazes of her colleagues and the piercing gaze of her tormentor.

"Come now Constance I would like to have a little, er, catch up before my talk starts," Constance made to follow her but Broomhead stopped allowing her to pass her. This gave her the advantage of latching onto her arm without it being noticeable to the staff members behind them. She had to bite her tongue to stop the cry of pain from escaping her lips as nails dug into her arm and a current of magic was shot along it.

It had begun again.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Ok folks here's the next chapter enjoy because I couldn't stop writing!

* * *

"Mark my words girl I am watching you very closely and I will not be letting you slip through my fingers anymore is that understood?"

Constance gasped in pain as flames seared her flesh and her former tutor stood over her with a maniacal grin daring her to show weakness, defend herself or call out for help.

"You have been left to your own devices for far too long, just look at yourself and that _disgusting _Drill!" She spat her words at Constance and they festered in her mind. She could feel a rage from deep within her and launched herself at her former tutor. She felt the magnitude of her power surge through every nerve but it would not leave her body. Instead she began to burn again; the pain was so overwhelming that though her mouth was open no sound escaped her.

"Constance when will you learn that _I _control you, you stupid girl. Now stop with the theatrics and sort yourself out the students will be here soon and we wouldn't want them to interfere now would we? And I want you to stay away from Drill," Constance lay gasping on the floor and was trying to focus on her words, "I hear non-witches have less endurance than witches." Constance had to fight back tears as images of a broken Imogen at Broomhead's feet played before her eyes.

She had never cared about herself and at one point she believed to die would have been better than living under Broomhead's rule but she had always sought to protect the girls and her fellow teachers. They were the only family she had truly known and she would walk through fire for them before she let _her _hurt them.

* * *

It sickened her to see the smiling faces of her students staring up at the podium. Her stomach felt like lead, she didn't like not knowing what was going on around her, even more so when this particular witch was involved.

"Silence!" Broomhead surveyed the room, the delight in her eyes at having even the smallest amount of power was apparent. "I am here today to talk to you about the importance of ensuring the survival of magic in our society, " "_no, she's not serious," _"over recent years the magical community has faced many setbacks in particular regarding those with further magical abilities, I believe one of you has demonstrated such an ability. Mildred Hubble, stand up girl!"

Mildred scrambled to her feet and had to be steadied by Maud and Ruby on either side of her. Constance's heart went out to her but at least she had the support of her friends at her side.

"Hubble you have demonstrated a unique magical ability."

"Yes Mistress Broomhead."

"That was not a question girl. Now tell me how do you think you can benefit our society with your abilities?"

Mildred seemed to weigh up her answer, clearly not knowing where Broomhead was going with her questions.

"Come now Hubble I do not like people to waste my time."

"Well, erm, I guess erm, well I got rid of the Uninvited witch that time and well -"

"What are you being taught in this school? Do you not think the preservation of such an ability is of the utmost importance?" _"please, please don't do this."_

"I'm sorry Mistress Broomhead I don't know what you're asking me," she seemed to shrink away under the old witch's gaze and quickly sat back down with her friends.

"Very well, I will explain it to you all," she sneered down at the pupils, "you are the future of the magic world which over the past century has lost more and more of its most powerful sorcerers. You will soon be finishing your time at this level of education and after that it is important that you focus a large part of your time on ensuring the increase of power for later generations."

Both the girls and boys seemed to be completely clueless as to what she was talking about and it was written all over their faces. If the situation wasn't so terrifying it would be laughable.

"Marriage you imbeciles, I am talking about combining your magical strength with a suitable husband or wife." There was a moment of silence before Gary Grailsquest broke it, "Charlie get in there even more excuse to snog Mildred!"

She could see her hands itching to silence them all and Constance wondered if she'd be able to stop her before too many people got hurt. However what she _knew _was that her tormentor had spent many a year weaving a façade for the rest of the world to see so taking drastic action with the Chief Wizard about would only destroy that.

"Silence all of you I will not tolerate this childish behaviour when such a delicate matter is being discussed. It is your obligation to make a stronger generation."

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit her tongue so hard so as not to speak up. The pain did little to divert her attention but she became absorbed in the faces before her, many of whom were looking to her for guidance. Mildred seemed distraught at the idea of having to marry someone based on their magical abilities. The girl was such a dreamer that she was sure anything short of a fairytale romance and Mildred wouldn't be interested. Her eyes stung with tears she could not let fall as Mildred, Maud and Ruby each held hands as if their friendship could stave off even Heckety Broomhead.

What drew Constance's gaze more however was the despondent gaze of Enid Nightshade. She was staring off into the distance as if she wasn't actually hearing the woman's words. It worried her deeply for it was an expression she knew she'd worn for many years along with a deep-seated numbness.

She longed to be embraced by numbness now but the few moments with Imogen had made a chink in the armour she'd cemented around her heart so that the happiness was replaced with an unbearable agony. As much as it saddened her to let go of her feelings she understood there was no other way she would make it through the next few minutes let alone the extent of the older witch's stay.

* * *

The talk had lasted another hour with Broomhead analysing every pupil there to see if they had any magical abilities which had not been noticed by "the sub-standard teachers at such a decrepit school."

Constance was relieved that she could finally leave her presence and throw herself into her teaching even if it was the fourth years. Unusually she did not feel apprehensive over whatever problems would arise in the class, instead she stood over them with a watchful eye trying to see how affected Mildred was by Broomhead's words, how annoyed Ethel was at being told she was "average at best," and most of all she watched Enid.

For someone who was normally so full of life the vacant look in her eyes was alarming. She did not joke along with her friends all class; instead she stared at her book without reading it and was almost zombie-like in her movements as she prepared the potion of the day.

* * *

It pained Constance to tell her class that the lesson was over as she would be left in the classroom alone. Until her tutor arrived for another discussion that was. She began to tidy away to absorb her mind in a task. A cough from behind her had her frozen in fear.

"Miss Hardbroom," came the timid voice of Enid Nightshade. She turned in bewilderment at the young woman who was holding back tears. "Miss Hardbroom I don't think I can be a witch." She began to cry softly and Constance found herself kneeling in front of her pupil taking hold of her hands. She had never had to offer comfort to anyone, nobody would ever dare ask it of her but her she was.

"Enid look at me please," she waited until she had her full attention, "you do not need to have heightened magical abilities to be a great witch." Constance was taken aback as Enid pushed her away.

"That's not why I can't be a witch. Like that would bother me. If being in the same class as Ethel Hallow has taught me anything it's that I'm not the best witch out there."

"You're an excellent young witch. And if that's not the problem then what is? What's wrong Enid? I know Mistress Broomhead is very…forceful in her views but that shouldn't hold you back."

"She said to be good witches we had to marry the best wizard but –" Enid stopped abruptly and stared down at her shoes.

"Enid you don't have to tell me if you don't want to but you have my assurance that what we say will not leave this classroom."

"I, I don't want to get married -"

"Oh Enid that is perfectly understandable and not something you should be so upset about," she interjected but Enid held up her hands and shook her head.

"No you don't understand!" Enid seemed shocked at her own outburst and breathed deeply to collect herself _"now why can't I do that," _Constance thought to herself.

"It's not that I don't want to get married, I don't want to get married to a, to a man." Silence befell the two witches. Constance was awestruck by Enid's courage and her honesty with herself. And then it hit her, Enid thought she couldn't be a witch because of Broomhead's venomous tirade.

"I want you to listen to me very closely Enid," she grasped the girl under her chin so that she could look into her eyes. "There is _nothing, _nothing whatsoever wrong with that do you hear me. You are a strong witch Enid and that will _never _be affected by who you choose to love, except positively."

Tears were making their way down Enid's face now and she gave a teary smile to Constance, "thank you Miss but what happens if Mistress Broomhead or anyone else like her finds out, I doubt they'd just accept it."

Constance didn't know whether to lie or tell the truth but one thing she did know is that she was willing to fight so that what she said was the truth, "You will always be accepted."

"Now why would you lead her on in such a cruel way? The sooner she accepts she's sick the sooner she can get better," the voice was sickly and full of false kindness.

"How long have you been there?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I came in at the end of your lesson Constance, you really have forgotten everything I taught you."

Constance grabbed Enid and pushed her behind her so that she was between them both. She'd hurt Imogen through inaction she wasn't going to let it happen again.

"You don't want to do that Constance," but Constance had wanted to stand up to her for a long time but she didn't know if she could. Summoning all her strength she took aim at the demonic witch in front of her. It took her a few moments to realise that the cry of pain was from her and not Enid as she was slammed into the wall. Her head began to spin.

"How dare you attack me you ungrateful –" Constance didn't hear the rest as it was drowned out by Enid who hurtled a spell at Broomhead which had her thrown into one of the benches.

She could see again and saw Broomhead poised to attack Enid who was ready to defend herself. She had to stop it, Enid had knocked her over once but her attention had been on Constance, now she had her attention and her anger focused solely on Enid. Broomhead raised her arms and prepared to attack the young girl. Constance felt the shocks in the air as the magic came together and like all the evil spells she had witnessed under Broomhead's cruelty the acrid stench of it made her sick to her stomach.

Constance couldn't believe that even Heckity Broomhead would use such a terrible curse on somebody so young. _"Why are you surprised Constance? She did the same to you."_

She saw the flow of the magic from Broomhead and stretch out towards Enid as if in slow motion and without thinking she transported herself into its path. Engulfed in a white, hot agony she surrendered to the eventual numbness once more with the sound of Enid's screams filling her ears.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Enjoy :-)

* * *

Imogen sat amongst the hustle and bustle of the staffroom with vacant eyes except for when a sound would pass the staffroom door and she would look up hoping to see Constance walk through the door. Each time she went back to staring at nothing. Despite the chatter (and the out of tune warbling of Miss Bat) it was clear that the women were unsettled by the new presence in their castle. Even though Helibore was here, which meant that it was unlikely Broomhead would do anything extreme, the fact of the matter was that she had a great influence in the Witches' Council and, even more worrying, too great an influence over Constance.

She could hear running coming from down the corridor, the loud thumping pounded around her head. Somebody banged on the staffroom door and it had the teachers' on their feet in alarm as in came Enid Nightshade desperately gasping to catch her breath.

"Enid Nightshade whatever is going on girl that has you barging in like this?" asked Miss Cackle.

"Miss," Enid struggled to form the words, "Mistress Broomhead…argument…attacked…disappeared." Imogen's blood rushed to her head and she heard nothing but her heartbeat as she made for the door.

"Imogen just wait a moment please," though it was more of an order that Miss Cackle uttered there was no denying the worry in her voice, "you cannot go looking for Miss Hardbroom if we don't know what's happened." Imogen had to agree and took to pacing before the door so that without a moment's hesitation she could be on her way. "Enid dear sit down, drink some water then try to be as precise as possible."

As soon as she was able to speak Enid began recounting the afternoon's events at great speed; how Broomhead had shown up at the classroom and insulted them both, to how her teacher had tried to defend her and in the process had disappeared before her eyes. "I, I think Miss Hardbroom was passed out, that last spell was strong," if the room had not slipped into silence Imogen doubted she would have heard Enid's frightened whisper. Images of a broken Constance flashed across her eyes and made tears sting her eyes.

"Enid what were Mistress Broomhead and Miss Hardbroom arguing about?" Imogen asked though unsure if she was able to hear the answer. She didn't know Broomhead very well but she knew her enough to wager that she was not the kind of woman to start an argument for which she didn't feel provoked into in front of a student. _'And what was Enid doing there in the first place?'_

Enid seemed to weigh her words, "she didn't like what me and Miss Hardbroom were talking about." Staring at her feet Enid's vulnerability emanated from her and Imogen felt another surge of hatred towards the witch that haunted their castle. How many people she cared about would be brought down by her?

"Whether it is your reputation or that of Miss Hardbroom let me assure you that it is not nearly as important as you telling me _exactly _what Mistress Broomhead was angry about," Miss Cackle put an arm on Enid's shoulder for silent support. The young witch began to speak rapidly as if by speaking so fast her words would be out of her before she could second guess herself and contain them, "I was upset because Mistress Broomhead's talk was about how we have to marry powerful wizards if we want to be good witches and I don't want to because I don't look at guys, you know, like that. I was upset and I ended up staying after class to talk to Miss Hardbroom. She was _so supportive and caring _it was unbelievable, everything she said was amazing. She said how we can both be witches and love who we choose," Enid's voice cracked with raw emotion and Imogen had to look away to wipe away the tears that had fallen, "then _Broomhead _shows up and starts calling us disgusting." Enid spat out her words in contempt for the older witch.

"Did you say her talk was about marriage?" Helibore was clearly alarmed by the idea and Imogen, as well as having forgotten he was there, was surprised by his response. Surely such a puffed up bureaucrat would favour traditional views of life? Was he upset that they were being taught it at a young age or by the confession of the witch before him? It wouldn't surprise her if it were the latter for Imogen was well aware of how such things were regarded in her own society, one as steeped in tradition as the magical community would be even more opposed to 'liberal' lifestyles.

"This is preposterous! How could this have happened? A Right Order extremist in the school, a member of the witches' council no less, spreading her filth via way of innocent children!" Helibore's voice was filled with rage and Imogen understood why he was the Chief Wizard, he radiated powerful magic that even a non-witch could feel. She'd only ever felt something stronger and that was from Constance.

"Umm, Chief Wizard Helibore sir," Imogen felt ridiculous not knowing how to address the man but she had always avoided talking to him, "what do you mean by the Right Order?" An uneasy glance was swapped between the older witches and the wizard.

"It's an extreme sect within the magical community. They've been around for generations. Their aim is to preserve the so-called purity of the magical world," Miss Cackle looked ashen as she said her words.

"They are the real evil of our world Imogen," Miss Bat finally spoke but her manner was unfamiliar to her, a darkness swept over her eyes and her body seemed strained as if the force of her words were pressing down on her. "They have spent hundreds of years trying to enforce their doctrine. They believe that the most powerful of witches and wizards must be preserved and sifted in order to strengthen the magical world, to strengthen their power. They want to obtain the greatest powers available strengthening it with each generation. _Anything _that threatens them is eliminated"

This was a side of their world Imogen had never even imagined. Such actions she attributed to her own history, whenever she thought of pain in the magical world she couldn't help but think of the people slaughtered hundreds of years ago. "By anything, you mean –"

"Race, sexuality, allegiance," Helibore interrupted, "how can a man who loves another man ever serve the magical world if he refuses to pass on his gifts?" His words were tinged with sadness. Clearly many had been affected by this group if his and Miss Bat's reactions were anything to go by. "Many people lost friends and family to this order Miss Drill, they've been pushed underground for a few years now but they still have strong influence, clearly."

"Miss Hardbroom's dead isn't she?" Enid's outburst brought Imogen to her knees and she tried to find it in her to deny it but the words became stuck in her throat.

* * *

It had been many years since she had felt the power surge through her, since she had revelled in the simple pleasures of having her pupil under her submission. It writhed in agony on the floor as pulse after pulse swept through its body siphoning more and more of its powers. She stepped over the twisting figure to sit down and watch her work unfold before her. Something upset the smooth texture of the seat and she slipped her hand under the cushion and pulled out a pale blue night shirt covered in sheep. She knew who the owner of it was and bile rose to her throat in disgust. Fury flowed along her nerves and made the strands of magic become an incandescent red which threw the tortured features of it into stark relief, its face contorted in agony.

"Please," she gasped. Smirking she stood up and with a heavy boot kicked at its stomach causing it to cough up blood which matted in its hair.

"Don't be so pathetic Constance," she chuckled.

"Imogen," the younger woman whispered as tears slid down her face before she slipped away again.

* * *

**_AN: I've left it on another cliffhanger I'm sorry seems to be my M.O. of late but it's 4am and I can't get the next part done yet, so sleepy times and then hopefully the next chapter up by the end of the day/tomorrow._**


	9. Chapter 9

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Enjoy :-)

* * *

Pupils swept the dungeons, the classrooms and the grounds in search of their missing Potions teacher but to no avail. Night had crept upon the castle and with it came a dense storm, it raged on outside as panic gripped the castle. Their protector was not with them, although Miss Cackle was the Head Teacher it went without saying that everyone felt safer with Miss Hardbroom patrolling their corridors, the clicking of her heels and the clinking of her keys lulling everyone into a feeling of safety and security.

The teachers were gathered back in the staffroom desperately trying to come up with new ideas for the whereabouts of their colleague. Helibore and Bat had their heads bowed in concentration and Miss Cackle paced the staffroom while Miss Drill sat in Constance's chair. The material had clung onto some of her scent and it wrapped itself around Imogen's head making her heart ache with dread at possibly never taking it in again.

"They could be anywhere by now couldn't they? I mean if Constance," Imogen choked on her words, "if Constance is incapacitated she can't exactly put up a fight, surely Broomhead could have gotten quite far away by now?"

"Miss Drill, my dear, what you have to understand is that it is not without its limits when trying to appear from nowhere and as you may have noticed there is a storm going on outside," Imogen was unaccustomed to this side of Helibore as he tried to calm her down, "this storm is most definitely_ not _a natural occurrence."

"How do you know that?" as much as she tried she would never understand the rules of magic, in fact it was one of the main reasons she and Constance were at each others throats as often as they were. How she longed for one of their arguments with the older woman's face flushed with anger.

"It's a feeling we all have Imogen, this storm's _feels _Imogen, it's painful and scared only a very powerful witch is this connected to the Earth," Miss Bat explained solemnly.

"So, Constance is doing this," she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling lost and alone in a room with those she saw as her family. She had to find Constance, she needed to feel her safe and warm in her arms but her mind was wracked with images of a cold and lifeless form in her arms.

* * *

"Constance will you just calm down this is really unnecessary," her putrid breath had Constance gagging against the cloth in her mouth. She'd drifted in and out of consciousness each time hoping to wake up to see Imogen's smiling face. She slumped against the wall as the relentless attack _finally _eased, she had learned as a child that this did not mean that Broomhead had taken pity on her, it meant that the old witch needed a rest, a reprieve from torturing after all it was _so very draining._

Her wrists and her neck bled from where Mistress Broomhead's devices cut into her skin. They were her tutor's pride and glory – she had heard over and over again how they were an incredible invention of hers, designed to inflict as much pain as possible as they tore the magic from a person. She heard steps along the stone floor and opened her eyes as much as she could. She groaned as her torturer returned.

"You know Constance as much as you disgust me there is a part of me that is very proud of you. Just look at this, the chest I gave you when you were just twelve years old, here with you always, looking after my gifts, you good girl," she smirked as she patted her head like one would an animal.

Constance tried to speak but the cloth stopped any sound from escaping but Broomhead reached forward and yanked the cloth from her mouth eliciting a cry from Constance.

"You're sick, gifts! Do you get some kind of sadistic pleasure out of this, you and your twisted followers," she saw stars as Broomhead's hand slapped the side of her face and felt blood flow anew from a cut above her brow. Glistening in the moonlight was the ring she knew belonged to her, a ring passed down from woman to woman on her mother's side of the family until her mother's death. Blood dripped from it, her blood. A cough from the old woman drew her gaze upwards.

"Haven't you learnt by now not to look at things that you shouldn't? You know you're as bad as she was you insolent, little brat," the smirk on her face caused a wave of nausea to pass over her.

"Who? All the years I've known you and you always talk about someone, another one of your victims, like a threat. Is this your way of making sure I don't feel _special. _Like I'm not the only one you _lavished _attention on," Constance knew she shouldn't taunt her but she was not going to back down, she'd spent too long taking everything she got.

"Have you never heard the saying 'be careful what you wish for'?" Constance stared back at her unblinking, refusing to back down. "Very well Constance, this ring belonged to a very powerful witch, one nearly as powerful as you. Isabella Morwena Hardbroom."

* * *

"It's not the most accurate of techniques; the practice went out of use centuries ago."

"Yes but if it works-"

"Of course it'll work Constance has the strongest magical signature I have ever known."

"Then it'll probably work."

"Not to sound rude but would you mind being a little bit clearer for those of us who haven't got a BLOODY CLUE WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!"

The other teachers stared at her, startled by her outburst but their looks quickly became embarrassed then sympathetic. They couldn't imagine how isolated she felt, how could they? Here she was, desperate to find the woman she loved and finding her was out of her power.

The woman she loved. _'Why do we always realise who we love at the wrong time, whenever it's too late. Please, _please, _if anybody is out there, if you give her back to me it will be the first thing I tell her."_

"Miss Drill I'm sure you're frustrated by all this let me explain it to you," said Helibore, "we want to dowse for Miss Hardbroom's magical signature, dowsing means using a crystal to find somebody on a map. It fell out of practise centuries ago as it was so unreliable to distinguish between signatures."

"But you see Constance is a very special, very powerful witch," interjected Miss Cackle, "her signature will stand out amongst all the others then we'll use the magic mirror to try and see exactly where she is, dowsing and scrying are not as accurate as we would like."

"But it's the best option we have at the moment," added Miss Bat. Imogen just nodded – the only thing she could do.

* * *

"That's not true, you're lying, it's just more of your lies," shrieked Constance.

"Is that what's easier to tell yourself Constance? If you are the bad character in all of this, if it was _your _fault then that means that you could have been loved by your father," she guffawed then she leant forwards grasping her by the chin so she could whisper in her ear, "but we both know that's not the case. Be proud Constance, you have been far more difficult to break than she was."

Constance lunged at her and she was once more engulfed in a white hot pain but she gritted her teeth refusing to give the evil woman the satisfaction of hearing her screams. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body which, once the bitter cold hit it, had her shivering violently.

"The preservation of our people is of the utmost importance, cleansing our world of these people is the only way forward. If that means that I have to kill mothers so be it," she stared long and hard at Constance, "and if it means that I have to kill PE teachers that threaten what I have worked towards for nearly a lifetime with their disgusting influence then I will do so with pride."

"You will not touch Imogen," she tried to sound strong but her body was already weak that her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

"If I can do whatever I want with you then surely I can do whatever I want with a non-witch."

* * *

They'd managed to narrow down Constance's location to somewhere in the west side of the castle. Each teacher except Miss Drill sat around the staffroom table as Miss Cackle placed the magic mirror in the centre. They'd been quiet for some time with only the sound of Imogen's footsteps breaking the silence.

An image began to form on the mirror, it was like seeing something at the bottom of a lake; the image wasn't quite in focus and seemed to ripple. Shapes and colours were barely distinguishable.

"Perhaps one of the old classrooms," whispered Helibore.

"No they've been bare for years this room clearly has things in it, if only we could see them more clearly," the anxiousness in Miss Cackle's voice was palpable.

"What's that?" Miss Bat exclaimed and Imogen rushed towards the table to try and see something and cursed the fact that she was unable to see anything.

"What is it Davina?"

"I'm not sure Miss Cackle, is it a box? It looks old, very old and it's got a very heavy lock."

"Looks like a chest, Victorian if I'm not mistaken," muttered Helibore.

Imogen's head whipped up, "Oh my god I know where they are!"


	10. Chapter 10

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me.

* * *

The four teachers ran along the corridors of the old castle with Imogen leading the way having simply bolted from the staffroom without answering any of their questions. They arrived on the second floor which was covered in worried students who began to throw questions at the teachers. The cacophony swarmed around Imogen and as much as she pleaded with the girls they did not part for her as they would Constance.

"Oy! You lot! Get out of the way before _I _have something to say about it," Enid's voice boomed over those of the other girls.

"Thank you Enid," came Miss Cackle's exasperated voice as she tried to catch her breath, "could you and the others take the girls down to the Great Hall please I want them out of the way."

"Mildred and Maud will take them, I'm coming with you."

"Right then let's go!" said Imogen who did not want to waste time arguing with the girl and began to run on ahead once more. _'Please, please don't let anything happen to her, please, please."_

* * *

'_Please, please, please don't let anything happen to her,'_ Constance knew she was spending the last of her energy praying to anyone who would hear her instead of making peace but what was the point? There was only one thing she wished she had done. Only one person she wanted to be safe above all others.

* * *

"Imogen where are we going please?" Miss Cackle shouted.

"Constance's room, the chest Helibore saw, it's got something to do with Broomhead now come on!" Enid and Imogen reached the top of the stairs before the others and pushed against the door but it was futile.

Imogen's heart plummeted and she began to pound on the door with her fists, "Constance! Constance can you hear me?"

"Miss Hardbroom!" "Constance!" they were silent for a moment trying to hear inside the room. Imogen began to seethe with anger as she heard laughter from the room. She jumped back from the door when she felt a bang from the other side.

"Miss Drill, feel free to shout your goodbyes through the door."

A loud scream startled Imogen, it scared her even more when she realised it was from her but she didn't care. Instead she began to claw at the door making her nails bleed. She was mildly aware of those around her trying to grab hold of her to stop her but each time she pushed them off until Enid had grabbed her from behind and held her arms down.

"Miss Drill please calm down this _won't _help Miss Hardbroom."

Imogen's despair was a brutal ocean with waves that pushed her under too far for her to breath, stopping her from thinking about anything other than the idea of a broken Constance with blank, dead eyes. She floundered for she did not know what she could do, she was a helpless non-witch, and how could she protect the one whom she would lay her life down for against the evil witch? She crumpled to the floor and felt her mind become distanced from the rushed words of those around her as they tried to work out what to do. She had already given up and her heart broke at her weakness, smashing into thousands of pieces that she felt she would die from the pain of it all.

"No magic is getting past this door her barriers are too strong?"

"What about if we send a bookshelf through and land it right on top of her?"

"Enid as much as that is what she deserves, Miss Hardbroom's and Mistress Broomhead's magical signatures have merged, there is no way I can distinguish between the two," came Helibore's voice which was strained and the unexpected anguish in them pulled Imogen violently through the fog.

"Send me."

"What?" came a chorus of voices.

"Send me, I have _no _magical signature I can get through," she pleaded with them to let her do it. They had to let her, they had to understand. If she did nothing Constance would die. And so would she.

Miss Cackle sighed, "Imogen I want you to understand the magnitude of this if you do it. Even if we manage to send you through instead of into a nether region of magic, we will not be able to help you once you're in; you'll be on your own."

"I understand," _'just do it already, come on!'_

"Very well, Egbert, Davina if you'll please help me with this."

* * *

Constance's tears fell from her face and onto the floor creating ripples in the blood which dripped from her body in crimson rivulets. Every joint, every nerve ending and every link she had with the magical world was aflame as Broomhead stood over her. Her smug tormentor, forever in the background, now before her for one final time

"I offered you everything Constance, the chance to do something for our society but you just threw it back in my face. You will always be a selfish whore!" Broomhead reached down and yanked Constance by her hair so that she was on her knees. "I gave you the chance to change, to realise your sickness but _clearly _you think you know better," she spat.

"Alyse wasn't a chance she was a sick test, you toyed with me for your own amusement not to make me better," her head span as Broomhead shoved a booted foot into her stomach, she would have collapsed to the floor if it weren't for Broohead's grasp of her hair.

"And you were foolish enough to think that someone else would share your disease Constance. Tell me, did she convince you out of the bedroom and in the bedroom or were you saving that disgusting part of your life for your pathetic PE teacher?"

Constance could feel the rage that flowed out of her teacher like tiny shards of glass which sliced at her skin. A flash of light from behind Broomhead made her heart pound against her chest. The moonlight through the window had lit up the blade in Broomhead's hand which would end Constance's life.

Broomhead stroked it along her throat and with each pass she breathed in sharply waiting for the cold metal to pierce her flesh. She could feel its point dig further into her skin with the responding trickle of blood creating a hot path down her neck. She closed her eyes and waited for the moment to pass when she would succumb to the numbness and not return. She thought about how her body would be found, marred with years of torment, the darker skin against the few areas that remained untainted. Then she remembered Imogen's actions, was it really just a few days before? How the woman had touched her scars and not flinched from them. Had not flinched from her.

Her body was tense waiting for the blade to puncture her skin; she waited for sharpness, the warmth of her blood flowing down her neck. But she felt an absence of the knife, an absence of the woman whose pungent breath had swept over her face. She felt herself drop to the floor and refused to open her eyes. She didn't want her final moments to be staring into eyes which held such malice.

She felt a soft touch to her jaw and another hand in her hair. Her senses were overcome with a familiar scent. That scent, which brought with it safety and happiness. She would be happy to die if those were her last thoughts.

"Constance, open your eyes please," the softest voice, like music in her ears that soothed away the darkness that tried to creep into the corners of her mind.

"At least I'll die happily."

"And that will be in many years, now open your eyes for me Constance please," _it couldn't be?_

She slowly opened her eyes, afraid that she was dreaming it all. Staring back at her were the breath-taking green eyes she'd prayed for.

"Imogen," was all she managed to say, overcome with emotion she took in as much of her face as she could, determined to commit it to memory; her eyes which though green were speckled with flecks of gold, the slight lines at the corner of her eyes which showed the happiness she embraced in her life. The smile formed by two perfect lips which was aimed at her.

* * *

Imogen could have stayed in that moment forever, taking in the sight of the woman who was breathtaking even when injured. She wanted to take her in her arms and tend to the wounds; the physical and emotional ones. But for a few moments she just wanted to look at her, assure herself that this was real.

"How?" she croaked.

"Helibore and your mirror."

"My mirror?"

"Yes the one next to the door," Imogen grinned mischievously as Constance looked past her to see the broken mirror pieces surrounding a passed-out Broomhead.

"That's two mirrors you owe me now you know?" she laughed softly which turned into a wracking cough. Imogen put her arms around the woman before her to give her support and felt her heart drop as she winced; clearly some ribs were either cracked or broken.

"It's okay I've got you," Imogen helped her up and found herself closer to Constance then she intended. She never wanted to let go, she softly kissed the top of her head breathing her in scent to remind her that it was real. She pulled away to take in her appearance and was shocked to see something piercing Constance's neck. She went to pull it off then let out a sharp cry as sparks flew up her arm making it numb.

She was about to ask Constance if she was alright when the fear in her eyes shocked her. Thoughts rushed through her head, _have I hurt her? Is she pulling away?_

She felt the wind knocked out of her and the blood pound in her head as she was pulled backwards and into the unforgiving stone wall. She was briefly aware of Constance moving towards her before an overwhelming pain surged through her like electricity. She was vaguely aware of hearing someone sobbing, begging for it stop and she didn't know if it was coming from her or the other woman.

* * *

She struggled for breath at the sight in front of her; there was no getting rid of Broomhead. She was like a persistent plague coming back stronger each time thanks to her amazing talent for hatred.

Imogen's body convulsed and twisted and her face screwed up in a grimace. Broomhead's attack was relentless and she felt a wave of nausea sweep over her at the sadistic grin that was reflected in many of the pieces of mirror on the floor. Taunting her.

She felt years of hate and fear permeate her skin and a power flow through her that she'd only ever wondered about. She understood her years of never fighting back, through fear of her torturer and fear of becoming like her. But faced with Imogen's pain she felt herself push through the fear and raise her arms towards Broomhead.

"_Stop what you're doing!"_

* * *

Imogen clenched her teeth to stop her screams breaking through, refusing to give her the satisfaction. She felt the pain slowly begin to diminish and gasped for breath. Broomhead had turned toward Constance and she made to grab her attention back to her when she saw the strength in Constance's eyes. She'd always seen Constance as an enigma of power, even as a non-witch she could feel the power that radiated from her.

There seemed to be a silent interplay between the two witches as each tensed their hands as if waiting for the first move. Imogen hoped that Constance would not be the honourable one and wait for Broomhead to attack her first.

"How dare you!" the old witch screeched and launched herself at Constance throwing some unknown curse at her. Constance defended herself and the blinding light from their two powers forced her to look away. Their shadows against the stone wall seemed more terrifying than the actual scene as each movement of the arm meant another spell was thrown between them. A cry made her snap her head round praying that it hadn't come from Constance. She was shocked to see a panting Broomhead double over as Constance stood over her.

A brief pause allowed Broomhead to collect herself and she launched the second wave of her attack throwing spell after spell at Constance. They moved as if in a perilous dance with Broomhead panting with exertion. The intense look of concentration on Constance's face alarmed her; did it mean she couldn't win?

The more Constance seemed to concentrate the more sporadic came Broomhead's spells that had come to grasp the left side of her head with one hand as if in pain and she fell to her knees.

"This ends now; I want you to leave Cackle's, Imogen and me alone. I owe you nothing," Imogen's eyes brimmed with tears and her chest swelled with pride, "and you are nothing to me." The little light from the moon that managed to peek through the thunderous clouds outside came in through the window and shone behind Constance giving her an ethereal glow.

Imogen held her breath waiting to see how Broomhead was going to react, the fact that she seemed to be shaking with barely contained rage had her glancing back at the broken mirror pieces wondering just how far she could go and how much damage she could do.

The old witch rushed towards Constance with her arms outstretched and a curse already spewing from her lips. The next few moments passed as if in slow motion and whenever she would try to recall them they would appear to her as if in still pictures.

As Broomhead's spell made to hit Constance she deflected it with one of her own. Broomhead screamed at her with wild eyes and magic springing from her fingertips erratically as if without purpose. She merely stepped out of the way but it was enough. Broomhead's malice which had consumed her for so many years drove her over the edge. Quite literally.

Miss Cackle would explain it to her hours later that the strength of the spell Broomhead had tried to aim at Constance had no destination and instead flew out the window and dragged her along with it but it wasn't important at the moment. The thunder ceased and the moonlight was able to shine through the window fully and illuminated the shock that graced Constance's face.

She was instantly before her and had her in her arms as years of repression left her body weak. She heard the ping of metal on stone as the devices fell from her body and along with them, Imogen was amazed to see, the cuts and scares of old fading, leaving fine porcelain skin. She heard Constance gasp and knew that she had felt them disappear; it would be a long time before they left her completely but she could move on and Imogen promised herself that she was going to be along for the journey.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me.

* * *

The next few days had passed in a blur with the Witches' Council moving into to clear up the destruction Broomhead had left in her wake, getting statements from everyone and, in Imogen's opinion, "_fixing their ridiculous cock-up!"_

She walked around in a foul mood as she hadn't seen Constance except for brief glimpses over the past few days as she gave statement after statement. She could only imagine the toll it was taking on her and was glad that Miss Cackle insisted on sitting in with her, Constance needed a mother there to guide her and protect her. Imogen knew she'd feel to self conscious if she was with her and she could respect that but that didn't mean she was happy at being so near yet so far from her. They'd barely said two words to each other and they hadn't been the words she wanted so badly to tell her.

* * *

Finally the day came when the Witches' Council would leave and all the teachers were gathered together as they explained their findings. Even though Broomhead was now a pile of dust in the courtyard, "because of her own maniacal idiocy," Helibore had said and had to be calmed down by Miss Bat, she had had a list of all the members of the Right Order within her possessions.

"Are you telling me she was the founder?" Miss Cackle had asked wide eyed.

"Most likely if not one of their main figures and it seems she'd been using her position as and as a member of the Council to get hold of promising witches including, according to another list, Mildred Hubble." Constance grasped Imogen's hand under the table in shock who gave it a reassuring squeeze for as much as it horrified her it was not going to happen now. Rubbing her thumb across the soft skin she felt some of the tension ebb away.

Miss Cackle had arranged for a party that night in the Great Hall since the boys would be leaving the next day as well. So once again Miss Hardbroom and Miss Drill parted ways when they left the staffroom to organise the girls and the castle.

* * *

"Well Miss Cackle this seems to be a soaring success," beamed Miss Bat as she danced crazily in a circle.

"Yes quite Miss Bat just what we needed, good friends, good fun and -"

"Good pastries Miss Cackle!" guffawed Helibore tucking into his fourth Danish pastry.

Imogen scanned the room looking for Constance, which was a foolish thing to do given how easy it normally was to spot Constance in a crowd. Her eyes rested on a shy Enid Nightshade who walked slowly up to Felicity Hemlock, a fifth year girl, and asked her to dance. The smiling faces of the other dancers around her seemed to assure her that it was alright.

It made Imogen think about how she wanted to ask a certain witch herself if she wanted to dance. She turned around to see a beaming Cackle looking right at her who mouthed the words "courtyard" to her and then turned back to her students.

Stepping into the corridor Imogen breathed in deeply to quell the sudden butterflies in her stomach. The crisp night air felt refreshing against her flushed cheeks, _"why do I have to go bright red when I'm nervous, this is ridiculous!" _Imogen was getting more flustered with very step she took knowing that the woman who had taken residence in her heart would be her usual poised, stunning and incredible self.

Her feet took her to where she wanted to be before she'd even registered moving there. She leaned against the stone archway and took in the sight of the bewitching woman. She was, breathtaking. Simply breathtaking. Since the shedding of years of anguish it seemed Constance was moving forward with her life and it was obvious in her demeanour, a bit less distance between her and her surroundings and no worry at the corner of her eyes. Gone was the black dress instead wore loose black pants and a navy, silk blouse which highlighted her ivory skin. Her hair hung in loose waves around her face and curled around her neck. Before her, quite laughably, was a large piece of the chocolate cake untouched and Constance was staring at it like it would sprout legs and run at her.

"Oh my, is HB contemplating eating _chocolate?_" Constance looked up at Imogen startled and then smiled at her which made her breath catch in her throat. For someone whose smiles were a mythical thing she was other worldly when she did smile.

"Well Miss Drill it would seem that on the list of things Miss Cackle thinks I need to do with my new found freedom this is about fifth on her list," despite the trepidation in her voice it was also obvious that she _was _embracing her new found freedom.

"List?"

"Yes during my, interviews," Imogen noted the pause between words, clearly Constance had disliked the experience as much as she thought she would, "to pass the time Miss Cackle decided to come up with a list of things I have to do now that I don't feel my every move is being weighed and judged by my former tutor. Of course I thought it was a waste of time at first, but after a while it was…liberating."

"And what's one to four then?" Constance looked at her shyly and then with a flick of her wrist the fork on her plate had a partner which she held up to her.

"Care to join me?" Imogen was giddy at the invitation and had to stop herself from skipping over to the other woman. The seat meant that they were both sat very close together so that when Imogen turned to give her attention their knees were touching.

"After you," she said grasping her fork but waiting for the other woman. Constance took a deep breath and slowly cut through the rich dark sponge. She brought it to her lips and Imogen stared transfixed at the dark red lips and felt a flutter of her heart as Constance closed her eyes.

"I hate to admit it, but…I think maybe I've been wrong about chocolate," she chuckled and Imogen laughed with her. They each began to tuck into the cake neither feeling the need to say a word but Imogen was constantly watching her eat thinking that there was no way that Constance's movements were painstakingly, unintentionally slow and sensual. Imogen became mesmerised by the movements of her lips and her tongue sneaking out to taste the chocolate before she ate it.

When the cake was gone Imogen let out a small chuckle.

"What?" Constance asked.

"You've got chocolate cake on the corner of your mouth," she explained. Constance licked at the wrong side of her mouth and Imogen took in a steadying breath at the image.

"Did I get it?"

Imogen felt herself lean forward until she could smell her faint, floral perfume and the unique scent of Constance. She lightly kissed the corner of her mouth and darted her tongue to lick at the chocolate and her senses were assaulted with the sweet taste of Constance against the rich taste of the chocolate.

Leaning her forehead against Constance's shoulder the two women seemed to take a moment to collect themselves and to calm their breath which had sped up at the slightest of contact.

"I thought I'd lost you," murmured Imogen into the other woman's shoulder while fighting back to tears. She felt Constance's hand softly stroking her back and breathed in a deep sigh at the feeling of peace which overwhelmed her. Tilting her head up, she became lost in the witch's deep brown eyes.

She'd read about perfect moments but had always thought they were the fanciful imaginings of authors whose heads were in the clouds. Even with the blaring of the party music Imogen was only aware of one thing, one specific person who she'd only just realised meant the world to her.

Being mesmerised by Constance Hardbroom's lips and being kissed by said witch were two very different things as they softly pressed against her own. Constance had barely moved backwards when Imogen had her hands in her raven locks and brought her lips crashing down to meet hers. They moved over each others as of they'd been doing so for years but each new sensation brought a gasp of delight from Imogen.

Imogen sucked at Constance's bottom witch and the moan it elicited sent a jolt of desire straight through her pooling in her abdomen. She used this to let her tongue sweep over her lips and further and became dizzy with the scent and taste of the older woman surrounding her.

They broke apart but held onto each other as they gasped for breath. The vision before her was intoxicating as the chocolate eyes were almost black with desire and she knew the same would be visible in hers.

A noise from down the corridor snapped them out of their trance and before she could suggest anything, Constance had grasped her hand and she felt the seat beneath her disappear.

* * *

**AN: The next chapter is definitely M rated so don't read if offended though if you've read this far I doubt you are :-) **


	12. Chapter 12

**The Walls We Build Around Us**

Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy  
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me. Final chapter :-( what a ride though! Definitely M RATED folks, you don't like femslash then you're in the wrong place.

* * *

Landing with her feet firmly on the floor did not rid her of the dizzy feeling Constance's quick thinking had caused and she stumbled forward but was caught by two caressing arms.

"I'm sorry, I just thought-" muttered the witch.

"Sssh, it's alright," Imogen was quick to assure her that she didn't mind her actions. She could see the nervousness mixed in with desire in her eyes and brought her arms around the woman. They were in their room; Imogen started at having thought of it as _their _room, for that's what it was really, it was the place where they had fought against each other and for each other to get to that point.

Taking hold of her hand she walked towards the bed then second guessed herself. That would distract her too much and she'd not say what she'd been trying to say for so long. Reluctantly she let go of her hand and moved to the head of the bed, grasping two of the pillows and moved back to the foot of the bed. Placing them on the floor she sat down on her own and motioned for Constance to copy her who arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Come on, you've eaten chocolate now sit on a pillow," she teased enjoying the playful side of their relationship.

Once Constance was settled Imogen took in a deep breath suddenly giddy with nerves, it was one thing to lust after someone but something else entirely when feelings such as she had were involved. She took the woman's hands in her own again and marvelled at the fine, porcelain skin between her own slightly tanned skin.

"I love you," it hung in the air between them and Imogen became more nervous with each second that passed and the myriad of emotions which danced across the other woman's face. She looked down, afraid that she had rushed things too quickly and could feel the embarrassment spread up her neck and across her face.

Tears stung at her eyes as she began to ramble on, "I'm sorry, it's just I thought we were too late and I promised myself that if we made it to you in time, I'd make sure I told you but then things got in the way and it always seemed like a stupid time to say it, I'll, I'll go-" she made to stand up but was pulled back down by the witch into a searing kiss. But she was still mentally kicking herself at her words and pulled away, "Constance you don't have to do that."

The witch looked at her pointedly as if she was being absurd and then Imogen let out a tiny gasp as image upon image was played before her eyes along with flashes of feeling.

_The first time they'd met with a feeling of awe that was quickly pushed away._

_Serge and herself flirting and the hurt and jealousy it had caused the witch. Then later on kneeling at her feet and despite the danger for the pupils there was a flicker of desire._

_Seeing Imogen asleep and the urge to protect her in her vulnerable state._

_The feeling of security and love as she slept knowing that Imogen was there to drive away any nightmares._

_Their near kiss in the Potions' Lab and the overwhelming urge to bring Imogen towards her and claim her lips._

_The fear and pain at the return of Broomhead turned to joy at the end of it all, at being back in Imogen's arms._

_Their kisses, each one played before her eyes. She remembered how she felt during them but could also feel how Constance felt._

"I love you too," the magical voice brought her away from the images but she could still feel the emotions that accompanied these words and a tear slid down her face which the witch came forward to kiss away. They became lost in small kisses enjoying their new found intimacy until eventually Imogen found herself on the floor with Constance on top of her, the witch's longer hair creating a curtain around them to further block out the outside world leaving just them.

Pulling back, Imogen's curiosity got the better of her, "what did you just do?" Constance laughed and kissed the tip of her nose before pulling herself up and bringing the other woman with her.

"And they say _my _priorities need reordering," the women stood pressed against each other as if afraid to bring any space between them for fear of the consequences. Despite her words she seemed reluctant to discuss it but Imogen pressed on.

"That's what Broomhead wanted from you isn't it? And that's why it seemed like you were having an argument right before…"

Constance nodded, "part of my being an accomplished witch includes the rare and highly sought after ability to share my thoughts and read the thoughts of others," her words were tinged with resentment, clearly after years of having hated her ability. Imogen was in awe however as she doubted she would never comprehend the power and strength of this woman.

"So you could know everything I think and feel everything I feel?" she asked timidly and Constance just nodded her head again, "kiss me." She hoped the other woman would understand her request as she was unable to form the words she wanted, overcome with passion and love for the magnificent creature before her.

* * *

As their lips touched it was like an electric current running through their bodies setting their nerves alight. Both women could feel the passion that a simple kiss ignited within them.

_Bed. _Neither of them knew which one had thought it but Imogen had turned Constance around until the back of her knees hit the mattress and they fell onto the bed laughing as they went. They continued to laugh with each other between kisses until Imogen leant backwards to straddle Constance's hips.

Constance marvelled at her beauty, the way the moonlight illuminated her flushed skin and the love and laughter that shone in her eyes at her.

"Thank you," she said shyly.

"Aah, I guess it's harder to turn off then turn on with you than with anyone else," she blushed.

"Well I don't mind at all," she laughed and brought her lips down once more. She sucked on her bottom lip then nipped at it gently causing Constance to moan and arch her back which sent a jolt of desire to Imogen's core, feeling the other woman's chest pressed into her own.

She slowly began to kiss and nip along her jaw bone and up to her ear taking it between her teeth. Constance took advantage of this and twisted her head around in order to place kisses of her own along the sports teacher's neck while her hands moved to lift under her blouse and caress the newly exposed skin of her lower back.

Deftly, Constance flipped them both so that she was on top of Imogen with a knee insinuated between her thighs, just out of reach in order to tease her. She smiled down at her smugly as the blonde woman pouted at having lost her position over her. Unable to resist Constance bent down to suck on her bottom lip making Imogen gasp in delight allowing their tongues to duel in an age old dance.

Constance's hand slipped down the front of Imogen's blouse slowly opening each button and lightly dancing over the new skin.

'_Tease.'_

'_Most definitely.'_

She smiled down smugly at her and then licked a slow path down her neck and lightly traced the outline of her bra noting the delicate white lace that enclosed her breasts.

"Constance," she heard and felt her beg for more of her attention so she brought her hands up to cup her through the material and teased her nipples between her thumb and finger.

"God Constance!" she moaned sending a shiver down Constance's spine as she took one erect nipple between her teeth, licking at it before gently sucking making Imogen buck her hips. She hummed her enjoyment which made Imogen cry out more.

'_More' _thought Imogen as she pulled Constance's mouth from her breast and moved her hands to begin unbuttoning her shirt just as she had done with her own but unlike the witch she was far too eager to see more of the creamy skin and ended up pulling at either side sending buttons everywhere.

Constance's arms made to cover herself for despite her teasing manner she felt the shame that emanated from her after years under Broomhead's oppression, and, though they were no longer there, she remembered where each scar had maimed her skin, twisting her into a hideous monster undeserving of love and hardened to the world.

"Don't," Imogen commanded softly, "don't do that. You, Constance Hardbroom, as I believe I have told you before , are completely and utterly bewitching," she punctuated each word with a light kiss along her jaw bone then finally pressing her lips in a feather light caress to her full lips.

She slid nimble fingers underneath the black lace that encompassed sumptuous, porcelain breasts. Softly stroking the underside of her breast she sighed as Constance closed her eyes in pleasure and she felt the flames of desire it provoked in her lover. Slipping her hands around her back she unfastened the bra and her eyes feasted on the sight before her. Imogen had never been with a woman in her life though she'd certainly caught herself looking at other women but for the past several years the witch before her had captured her heart and she realised that she had never seen anything more beautiful or more intoxicating as the sensual woman above her.

Bringing herself upwards she kneaded and stroked her breasts tenderly aware of how close she'd come to losing her.

'_I'm not going anywhere Imogen, please.'_

That was all she needed to know as she brought her lips to her nipple and sucked on it with fervour, amazed at the sensations it elicited from the both of them. Constance's arms began to shake either side of Imogen as she became overwhelmed by Imogen's actions. Sensing this Imogen rolled them side ways so that they were intertwined facing each other and their upper bodies pressed against one another making them press further into each other to quell the growing ache.

Soon hands began to roam where they had previously been unable to as they shared more kisses each unwilling to be away from the other's lips for too long. Imogen had her hands in Constance's long hair using it to anchor her to her lips before she moved away and began to suckle at her neck again. Once she had torn her bra from her in retaliation for her shredded blouse, Constance's hands had fixed themselves firmly on Imogen's backside so as to push her closer to her.

Hushed whispers were exchanged between the two in-between images of desire and love, so much so that they thought they would burst with happiness. Tearing herself from Imogen's breast she made a meandering path of soft kisses, light nips and teasing licks down her torso, admiring the toned body of the women as she went. She dipped her tongue into her belly button making Imogen giggle briefly before she continued her path downwards stopping at the waste band of her jeans.

Constance had long fantasised about being this close to the woman she'd daren't believe would love her back for many years. She wanted their first time to mean as much to Imogen as it would to her and found her bold movements becoming more nervous.

"Constance," she heard Imogen say and looked up at two glittering green eyes which were dark with lust and shone with love and once more she felt waves of love that emanated from her flow over her, soothing away any doubts from her mind.

She slowly unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zip down; the blonde woman gasped in delight at the minute friction it had caused and she moved her hips slightly trying to increase the pressure.

Pushing Imogen once again onto her back she pulled the jeans down slender, toned legs and marvelled at her beauty. Smooth legs seemed to go on and on until she dared to look up at the slip of lace material. She began to stroke along her left calf until it was putty in her hands and then moved onto the other calf. Her fingers then nimbly danced along her right thigh ever so higher making Imogen part her legs further in desperate need for Constance's sure touch but as soon as her hand reach the edge of her panties she switched back to her left thigh working upwards until Imogen lay writhing and whimpering for Constance's touch.

Raising her hand she delicately traced along the edges of her panties and bit back a moan at the wetness she could feel before hooking her fingers around them and pulling them down her long legs as far as she could and let Imogen pull them the rest of the way. Still placing light kisses along her thigh she gently teased her wet folds before circling her swollen pearl once, twice a third time causing Imogen to buck her hips. She then dipped her hand lower to tease at her entrance.

Staring back up at her there was a thin sheen of perspiration that made her skin glow in the moonlight and her hands screwed up the bed sheet beneath her, she saw the rise and fall of her breasts as she tried to regain control of her breath whilst she continued to tease at her entrance, dipping into the wetness that was there.

Just as Imogen had felt she got enough of her composure back to reach down and grab the woman she wanted so achingly, Constance pushed a finger into her and she cried out her name surprised at her own voice so husky with desire. She felt the finger curl inside her in a come hither motion and her inner walls contracted wanting desperately for more of the exquisite torture. The pale beauty added another finger and Imogen could feel the heat pooling in her stomach and felt that her head would explode as she felt a strong and able tongue lick at where she wanted most.

Imogen's taste overwhelmed her; she was encompassed by her senses, the feel of Imogen around her and the taste of her driving her insane. She lapped at her wet sex pushed on by the whimpers, moans and gasps of the woman beneath her. Looking up she saw that while one hand had moved to clutch the headboard she moaned as Imogen's other hand caressed her breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers as she arched off the bed and Constance's left hand came to rest on her stomach in order to hold her down. Sensing how close she was she added a third finger and brought her swollen bud between her lips and sucked on it as her inner walls clenched and unclenched as she road the waves of her climax continuing to move her fingers within her to prolong her orgasm feeling the immensity of it in her mind.

Even when Imogen had thought she'd come down from bliss she still felt aftershocks as Constance continued to lickk at her sex looking up at her brazenly causing another quiver of desire to stir through her. She gazed down at her and with a crook of her finger she beckoned her upwards. Grasping her shoulders she pulled her down into _another _searing kiss and moaned at the taste of her mingled with the unique taste of Constance.

Flipping them over Imogen insinuated a thigh between those of the witch beneath her and felt her sex through her linen pants already wet with need. Her gasp made her bolder as she bent down to suck on her nipple while gliding her hands down to unfasten the pants. She pulled them and her panties down then stood up to stare at her, enchanted by her porcelain skin in the moonlight. Crawling back onto the bed she was overwhelmed with nervousness, after all, she'd never done this and as much as she wanted to she also wanted to please Constance as much as she'd been.

Sitting up Constance brought her hand to the back of Imogen's head and pulled her down into a kiss so that their bodies were flush with each other's. Imogen moaned as her womanhood touched that of the woman beneath her who moaned at the contact, bucking her hips to increase the pressure.

'_Don't worry,' _she felt Constance's assurance and became emboldened and pushed her hips back into hers causing a delightful friction but she didn't want to focus on her own pleasure. Shyly she slipped her hand between their legs to cup the other woman's dripping sex and groaned knowing that she was the cause of her arousal. She found the nub that she knew would drive her crazy and circled it a few times before retreating to light caresses through her dark curls.

"Imogen please," she gasped hoarsely through slightly veiled eyes which were dark with desire. Her voice made Imogen's sex quiver with desire as she thrust first one finger then another into Constance's aching sex making her moan out Imogen's name. Her cries of delight spurred her on as she continued to drive her fingers into her and then circle her thumb around her swollen clit. Their bodies, slick with perspiration, glided against each other as Constance neared the precipice with each thrust her cries became louder. Imogen leant forward and bit down on her nipple whilst she circled her clit quickly matching the thrusting of her fingers and Constance flew apart into tiny pieces of exquisite heaven crying out Imogen's name over and over again.

Resting atop of her while she came down from her euphoria Imogen brought her hand up to lick at her fingers and was not surprised at how much she enjoyed the sweet taste of Constance. Opening her eyes she blushed at her actions having been caught by Constance but the darkness of her eyes told her how much she enjoyed the vision. Their lips met in a satiated kiss which soon reignited their mutual need for each other as their hips rocked against each other.

Sitting up Constance took Imogen in her lap and began to rock her hips upwards so that they soon found a steady rhythm as their swollen sexes rubbed against each other. Constance buried her head in Imogen's neck and gasped with each thrust of her hips while Imogen whimpered as both their passions began to escalate.

Constance reached between them and began to play with Imogen's clit once more which, with the bucking of her hips, also played against her own and soon they were both desperate to feel the tightness in their abdomen expand as they climaxed. Imogen placed her hands on either side of Constance's face s that she could bring her lips to her own which muffled her cries of ecstasy as they each jumped over the edge.

Still kissing fervently as they came down from their heights Imogen whispered against Constance's lips, "I love you."

Constance pulled back and stared at her with tears in her eyes, "I love you too," and she kissed the tip of her nose before pulling them both down to the bed and grabbing the comforter to throw over them. Imogen nestled into Constance's side softly playing with the hair that curled around her neck whilst Constance lightly stroked her arm with look of peaceful serenity between sweet kisses. There would be time for more discussion tomorrow but for now they lay in each other's arms, knowing that no-one other than themselves could come between them and that was something they would make sure wouldn't happen.

* * *

**The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy – Jim Rohn**

**AN: I have a fanmix idea for this fic, basically all the music I listened to to be my muse but I am not artistically inclined so if anyone fancies a little project drop me a line. Finally thanks for all the reviews and reading! Onward ever striving onward!**


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